


Your Family Loves You

by curlsandblueyes



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, Character Death, Coco is protective, Hector is protective, Imelda is protective, Minor Original Character(s), Minor cursing, Multi, OC, Other, Post-Canon, Protective Family, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-29 05:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15065684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlsandblueyes/pseuds/curlsandblueyes
Summary: Miguel has been teaching his little sister all about their family, so that way he never has to see them be forgotten again. He always shows her their pictures, plays her their music, and shares the most wild stories. Miguel loves his baby sister and she adores her big brother, so why is he pushing her away from him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first piece! I’m obviously gonna edit a lot, but please forgive the poor... all of it. I’m using my phone and certainly will improve everything once I get a computer! Please enjoy though, I’m posting this after watching Coco for the eighth time! In two weeks! Still makes me giddy every time I watch Hector and Miguel find out they’re family!

Santa Cecelia was such a tiny village. It wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone if those growing up there would try to escape when they could. Yet, for one little boy perched on the step of the gazebo at the edge of the plaza he would only be pulled out of the village kicking and screaming. It was a home to him, in so many ways. He looked up only briefly from his notepad, a mess of notes and lyrics written on the paper. Beside him sitting on the step a shiny, white guitar. The small silver accents gleaming in the hot evening sun. The guitar caught the attention of many passerby, all knew who the guitar belonged - and now, had belonged too. Miguel smiled and waved to a mother and her little girl who pointed excitedly at the guitar. The mother waved back and continued on with her daughter who’s head turned to see the guitar till it could twist no longer around. Miguel chuckled looked over at the guitar with a proud smirk.  


He liked to take it out and shine it when he could. Most of the time it spent its day hung up in the small makeshift museum in his family’s compound. Now tour guides passed by his home instead of up to the Ernesto De La Cruz statue in the tiny plaza. Miguel looked behind him and smiled, two years now and the town had raised enough money to finally take down the statue of that white snake. Miguel shuddered feeling as if he was still roughly dragged about by the man after death as if it was happening now. Looking back to the guitar then, he ran his fingers down the smooth wood and let out a deep breath. It comforted him to keep his Papa Hector’s precious instrument so close when he could. He had to practice with Dia De Los Muertos only five days away.  


Although, he didn’t think he’d have a new song he’d be confident enough about to play this year, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be up till sunrise playing for his famalia, both of them. Deciding that enough was enough today he picked up the guitar, slinging it over his back and started the walk home. He’d test out some of his new material later on his three year old sister Socorro. She loved her brother like no other and when he played music for her she looked at him so brightly it made his heart burst. He turned down an alleyway and rushed down. However, a tin garbage can suddenly jumped up and spilled it contents everywhere including a scrawny, gray and hairless dog who’s tongue fell limp out the side of its mouth.  


“Dante! You scared me boy!” Miguel laughed scratching the dogs neck enthusiastically.  


He gave a happy bark and licked his face Miguel giving a slight sound of disgust before standing back up and jogging off towards home again, Dante at his heels.  


“It’s almost time for the family to visit again Dante! I’m sure you’ll be excited to see Pepita si?” He said.  


Dante gave another affirming back and Miguel laughed again. Turning the corner and seeing the compound he grinned eager to get home and eat some dinner with his famalia. When he looked into the opening of the compound he spotted Socorro clutching at his mother’s bright purple skirt, dressed in pink.  


His hermanita was beyond perfecto and he found himself calling out to her before he even crossed the street. Her little head whipped around, the small ponytail on her hair flying about as she did, and then she laughed her eyes widening at the sight of her big brother and let go of their mother. Miguel smiled slowing down to a light jog now as she scuttled across the compound to the opening. His mother called out to her to not leave but she was too enamored by the sight of her brother to listen that she had rushed out of the compound all together.  


“Socorro wait there!” Miguel called out rushing a little more now.  


“Mi-el!” She laughed.  


Then he heard it. The gasping of people, the angry shouts in thick Spanish, Dante’s warning sharp barks, and the insistent honking of a car barreling down the roads towards them. Towards little Socorro who was ignorant to the truck. Towards Miguel’s little sister.  


“Coco!” He screamed and leapt off the side of the road.  


Dante jumped after him trying to grab the boy in his mouth to yank him away from danger but he caught the leather strap of the old guitar which broke sending the guitar and dog sprawling to the stone sidewalk.  


“Miguel! Socorro!” Luisa screeched stopping the basket of Marigold petals in a golden heap, the delicate pieces flying everywhere.  


Miguel felt his fingers brushed against his sister who looked hurt and confused as to why her brother was pushing her away from him, but then she screamed as the truck which had slammed on its break a minute to late slammed into her brother. Before screeching to a halt the driver slumped forward in the seat.  


“Miguel! Enrique! Mijo! Mi Bebe!” Luisa cried out.  


Dante rushed over to the baby girl who sobbing uncontrollably and nuzzled her face. He looked over the mess on the road, whimpering, as Enrique with the rest of the family came running out of the house at the shouts of horror. Rosa snatched up the baby who with a few scrapped palms continued to wail.  


“Mi-el!” She cried out cheeks flushed and wet.  


“Oh no!” Rosa gasped holding the child close and looking at Luisa collapsed over her younger cousin laying in a motionless slump on the ground, wailing as hard as her baby girl.  


“What is going on- what... Miguel?! Oh! Ay dios mio! What happened?!” Elena cried out as she finally found her family all gathered around the boy’s still form.  


Enrique shook standing over his son and wife, and now his mother who joined Luisa’s side. He stepped back in horror a hand covering his mouth as the realization sunk in. His little boy was dead. His son. Only fourteen and barely had grown, still shorter then his cousin, who’s mother still tucked him in and hadn’t even gone to high school. Was dead. The anguish rolled over him like a tidal wave and he turned to the truck which now sported a dent in the front bumper sat steaming from its race. Enrique pushed through the crowd with an angry look on his face up to the driver’s side and ripped open the old trucks’s door.  


“Idiota! Estupido! What do you think you were doing?! You’ve killed my-,” Enrique began to shout at the man.  


But the driver leaned off the seat seemingly unmoving and Enrique could see the streak of red swipe across the dash.  


“Oh dios! Rosa-! Go inside!” He instructed as he took the man’s arm and felt for a pulse.  


The girl backed up slowly before turning and running, his daughter in her arms still crying her brother’s name. But he couldn’t feel it, the man’s pulse. The driver was dead as well.  
He barely heard the man behind him until he spoke for a third time and he turned around.  


“Senor,” he said holding up his son’s prized guitar, Dante lowered sadly at the man’s side looking up at Enrique.  


“G-gracias,” Enrique said taking the instrument and then staring down at it, as his wife and mother’s sobs and cries filled the awful silence.  


The whole village it seemed had gathered to survey the scene. Mother’s held their children close with looks of utter shock, Mariachi lowered their heads to the young musician, and other people whispered words of pity and disbelief. Too young, was mumbled several times as people looked on. But, Enrique couldn’t look and instead looked down at the guitar. He would never watch his happy, smiling son play it expertly, years of practicing in secret, he would never watch him sing wonderfully improving witch each year... he would never hear him call him Papa again. Enrique squeezed the neck of the car lightly disturbing the strings and then ran into the compound.  


“Tio Enrique?” Rosa asked as he rushed past her to the ofrenda room.  


He paused taking quick breaths as he gently laid down the guitar in front of all the pictures that were laid about in the room. The neck of the guitar spaced in the middle of the picture of his abuelita and his Mama Imelda and Papa Hector.  


“Oh por favor, auydaime Abuelita, Papa Hector, Mama Imelda... watch over my boy, por favor, por favor,” Enrique finally fell to his hands and knees and tears began to fall.  


Rosa watched from the door way holding Socorro who finally began to settle to a choir of small sniffles, gently calling for her brother and Rosa began to cry herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is a bit more light hearted! I hope you enjoy! I’ll try to add a chapter a day till I hit a wall! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t speak Spanish so please forgive me if I get anything wrong!

Coco enjoyed these times. When it neared night but the air was still warm, where she only had to wear her pink shawl and didn’t have to worry about freezing due to a slight breeze. She thought fondly as she sat on the porch of her home. Beside her Victoria was reading, and at her other side her Papa strummed a light tune on his guitar. She was happy, having both the daughter and father she lost too soon sitting with her in comfortable silence. It was a blessing. 

They were the luxuries that death offered her, especially freedom from the confinement of that wheel chair. She could barely stand to look one now, not that there were many here in the Land of the Dead. Still, they reminded her all the same of her limitations as an old woman. 

Yet she did miss what the wheelchair also had offered. And that was life. She accepted her death far before she accepted losing her memories. She knew when her husband had passed it wouldn’t be long until she did as well. Victoria’s death had broken all of their hearts, and Coco knew that Julio was ready to see his eldest again. But she couldn’t leave not when Enrique had announced the birth of his eldest child, not when little Rosa had started to walk and Berto had started middle school. No she had more family to look after before she could rest. 

Then her great-grandson had been born. She remembered Elena excitedly wheeling her into Luisa’s room, where the beautiful young woman rocked a bundle of soft, blue, linen blankets in her arms. Enrique was crying and Coco chuckled happily when he kneeled by her and kissed her cheek.

“He’s perfecto Abuelita, mi hijo is perfect,” he said.

She smiled and looked to Elena who was cooing over her grandson and crying now.

“Oh look at you! A strong Rivera boy you will grow up to be! A strong boy!” Elena said kissing the top of her new grandson’s head.

Coco smiled warmly already seeing the gears turn in her daughter’s head, plans of grooming the boy into the perfect shoemaker.

“What have you decided to name him?” Elena asked looking over to Luisa now.

“Miguel,” she answered warmly.

Elena did a happy little bounce and nodded.

“It’s perfect! Hola Miguel, I’m your abuelita... and this, this is your Mama Coco,” Elena said walking over to her mother then.

Coco smiled feeling excited to hold her great-grandson and gently took him from Elena. He was so tiny. A big round face, with long lanky limbs and tall stature. The boy would grow up to look like his father. Yet Coco could also see the underneath, the beginnings of another man reflected in the boy. He might even be taller then Enrique, he would certainly be skinnier despite Elena’s cooking, long fingers wrapped around the one she used to gently tug down the blanket at his chin, and when he barely opened his eyes Coco felt a flood of happiness. 

No, Miguel would not be a shoemaker. 

His wide big eyes which were a brighter, fuller brown than Enrique’s stared back at her in wonderment. The wonderment an artist who painted the perfect scene held, the baker who made the most delicious cakes, the way a dancer twirled perfectly along with their partner and... the way a musician would captivate the hearts of those around him. Her Miguel was going to be a musician, just like her Papa. 

“Hola Miguelito,” she giggled and the baby yawned.

Coco hummed in contentment as she remembered holding her great-grandson. She missed him, maybe the most, of course she missed her daughter and the rest of her family but Miguel had been special. He always was at her side, always talking to her even when she could not talk back, keeping her company and spending time with her even when a young boy his age should be with friends. And when they were alone he would sing. Before she lost her mind she would sit in his nursery and hum to him. She sometimes would see Rosa peek into the room to hear the noise, Enrique would walk quickly by barely stoping to not be accused of listening, and Luisa didn’t seem bothered by it at all, but sometimes Elena would purposely interrupt asking her mother if she wanted to go lay down, too uncomfortable to let it go but knew her place as the daughter even if she basically ran the household. Coco always would stay and hum to him, sing when she felt she could but always provided some sort of music for him. She thinks that Elena and some others would blame her for his love of music, that she conditioned him to want to be a musician, teaching him to sing before he could speak. But she knew even if she didn’t he would’ve found his love on his own. So, when she didn’t hum anymore and he was old enough he would sit with her and sing. She missed that the most. Almost as most as missing her Papa sing to her. One beautiful musician for another. 

She knew it would be long too, long before she saw Miguel and this made her upset. She let out a heavy sigh and Hector looked up then from his guitar.

“Coco? What’s wrong Mija?” He asked laying his silver guitar beside him and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I was just thinking on things,” she said softly.

“Like what Mama?” Victoria asked looking up over her book with a raised brow bone.

“I miss Miguel,” Coco said.

She looked over as her father’s shoulders slumped forward and his eyes fell.

“You’re not the only one Princessa,” he said.

“We’ll see him again soon though, Dia De Los Muertos is five days away. Who knows maybe the nino will steal another guitar, si?” Victoria smirked at her Mama.

Hector and Coco laughed at the thought, the door opened then to the smell of something warm and good followed by the cook.

“Dinner is ready everyone! Come eat!” Rosita sung sweetly twiddling her fingers.

“Ay! Wonderful! I was beginning to starve to death!” Hector grinned jumping up.

“Oh Papa Hector,” Rosita sighed rolling her eyes.

“You’re not funny Abuelo,” Victoria said standing up and Coco giggled at her daughter and her father who twisted his head on his neck to wiggle his brow bones at Victoria as she walked around him.

“Your words kill me Mija! You’re so cruel to your Papa Hector!” Hector feigned hurt over-dramatically dismantling himself to a pile of bones.

Victoria crosses her arms and raised an brow bone down at him. He grinned sheepishly and picked himself up again.

“You look like your abuelita when you give me that look, like an Imelda copy-cat,” he chuckled.

Now Victoria looked stunned and flattered away from her grandfather and cleared her throat walking in past her Tia.

“Let’s eat,” was all she said and Hector grinned happy to know he made his granddaughter feel complimented.

“More Imelda’s granddaughter, than your daughter, eh Coco?” Rosita giggled as Coco walked past her father.

“Ah si, but I’d say Elena can be the same too,” Coco said.

“Oh ho ho! Watching her wield that huarache last year when Enrique dropped the salad was certainly the perfect image of Imelda!” Hector laughed snatching his guitar by its neck and following his daughter’s inside.

“What is the perfect image of me, mi esposo?” A voice asked slowly behind him.

He jumped and turned grinning nervously.

“Imelda! I was just reminiscing about how our granddaughters are just like you!” He said.

“Hmm, well we need some sane ones to balance out the troublemakers,” she said, walking past him to the kitchen where everyone was beginning to settle for dinner.

“Troublemakers!? Who are the troublemakers, mi amor? You certainly aren’t speaking about the love of your life, si?” He grinned rushing up to peer over at her face as he followed.

“You are the source of the troublemakers! Coco and Miguel especially! I can only imagine how Socorro will grow with that boy as a big brother!” Imelda shouted.

“Haha! She’ll be just like Miguel and you’ll love her just as you do our chamaco!” Hector laughed.

“And she’ll play music just like our Miguelito!” Rosita laughed as the conversation migrated to the family.

“Ah, only if she wants to,” Hector said softly as he took his seat next to Imelda.

His wife smiled at him. He had come so far in such a little amount of time. The two years now that they had been reunited had shown Imelda a new side of Hector, a side she never thought she’d see. She knew he was caring, helpful and loved what was important to him passionately, but the new side, the responsible and understanding Hector, was something that still surprised her and never ceased too, again and again.

“Si you never know! She may want to make shoes!” Julio said and Coco smiled at her husband’s gleeful expression.

“Whatever she wants to do we will support her, all our little ones. Now, let’s eat shall we! We still have lots to do before Dia de Los Muertos!” Imelda said.

“Si!” Came the choir of Rivera voices around the table.

Everyone filled up their plates, Coco stealing the piece of pan de dulce her Papa was reaching for and he playful scowled at his daughter, Imelda scolded him for playing with food and he pointed to Coco with a incredulous expression, while Imelda reached for her shoe she was interrupted as Rosita walked around and started to fill her plate with tamales, after the third she held up a hand to her daughter-in-law, but the stern look she received begged a different answer and Imelda now stared at the pile of tamales on her plate, Hector laughed at her karma pointing at her plate, and so instead of the shoe Imelda shoved a tamale into his mouth to stop him from laughing, stifling her own laugh as he sputtered about. Julio accepted as many tamales as possible from his sister who sat next to him at the end of the table, Coco snatched one off his plate and he yelled out thief at his wife who grinned and batted her eyes, the shorter skeleton man grew flustered at his wife’s loving and teasing look telling her she could have the tamale and as many as she wanted off his plate, beside her mother Victoria rolled her eyes at her parents and picked up her book again impaling the few shreds of salad on her plate as she ate reclusively. Oscar, at the head of the table, and Felipe sitting between him and Imelda, were talking to themselves and looking worriedly at Rosita, waiting for her to turn away before quickly throwing the cabrito out the open door to Pepita, who caught them graciously, high-fiving under the table when Rosita asked how they liked the cabrito and they expressed falsely how much they enjoyed it. Felipe looked over then to Imelda when Rosita started talking to Hector and caught the obvious “I saw that” look from his elder sister and laughed nervously. But then grinned when she took a glance at Rosita and snuck three tamales off her pile onto his plate to be chucked as well.

“Mama Imelda!” She suddenly heard her daughter-in-law screech and she froze caught in the act of dumping her plate onto Felipe’s, who covered his face with his hands and Oscar ducked under the table for cover.

“S-si Mija?” Imelda smiled apologetically.

“What are you doing with your tamales? Felipe has plenty! You need to eat before you become a twig!” Rosita huffed standing up and grabbing more tamales off the kitchen counter.

Imelda groaned her shoulders slumping and then feeling a pair of eyes looked at Hector chewing leisurely away on the tamale she had shoved in his mouth.

“And you say I was the source of troublemakers, mi amor?” He said with a smug look and raised brow bones.

She opened her mouth to shout at him, holding up a finger when the phone interrupted.

“This isn’t over,” Imelda threatened her husband who grinned wiggling his brow bones teasingly then, saved by the telephone as his wife stood up.

She sighed and walked over to the phone straightening up with her back to her family and answered it.

“Rivera Family!” She answered.

“Ah hola! Am I speaking to Senora Imelda Rivera?” The woman on the other end asked.

“Si, this is she. Who might I ask would be calling during dinner time? Business hours are over for the shop,” Imelda said folding one arm across herself and into the crook of her elbow of her other arm.

“Oh lo siento for interrupting your dinner Senora, but it’s urgent-,” the lady began to go on.

“Well what is it!?” Imelda asked impatiently throwing her arm in the air.

“Oh I- this is the Department of Family Reunions Senora I - I have a family member of yours here with me,” she said.

The phone slipped out of Imelda’s hand and hung off the cord, the woman’s concerned voice calling out to her but unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments please! All feedback is helpful :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t forget to comment! Tried to finish this earlier but it felt rushed so I went back like three times and rewrote it lol XD

Miguel didn’t quite understand why his bed was so hard and grainy. He groaned rubbing his cheek against the rough surface and grimaced as it scratched his cheek. Deciding it was time to get up he put his arms under him and tried to push against the ground. His palms burned and his arms felt week as he feebly got to his hands and knees, and finally opening his eyes. 

It was dark out with only a small source of silver light illuminating his fuzzy surroundings. His head was pounding and though his body ached and felt heavy, he also felt like he was floating. Two sensations that didn’t quite mix he thought. He slowly sat back on his heels and rubbed the flat of his palm against his eyes to try and clear his impaired vision. Settling his hands on his thighs he blinked a few times before everything came back into focus. 

“This isn’t my room...” he mumbled raising an eyebrow. 

The place wasn’t entirely unfamiliar though. It was the road right outside of his home, the compound door was slightly ajar and the lights were off. Around him the homes all dark, lights off and not a soul in sight. The usually bustling life of Santa Cecelia, even at night, was completely silent. Miguel concluded it must be very late then.

“That’s strange Papa usually closes those at night,” Miguel said aloud.

Carefully, he got up and stumbled a bit on shaky legs he stepped back to catch himself and his leg hit something warm and moving behind him.

“Dante?” He asked quietly.

The dog was curled up where he had been laying on the ground and was sleeping with his ears down. When he heard his name though, the dog’s head shot up and he jumped to four legs barking excitingly. He tried to jump on Miguel but the boy pushed him away. He still felt uneasy supporting himself let alone Dante jumping against him.

“Ay, ay down boy! Not feelin’ to great right now,” he said patting Dante’s head, when the dog finally sat.

Dante’s happy attitude fell then along with his head and his ears, a sad whimper escaped him and instead he pushed himself against Miguel’s waist warmly. 

“Que pasa boy?” Miguel asked.

Dante didn’t meet his eyes as he stood up and trotted slowly for the compound. When Miguel didn’t follow he looked back at him and gave a soft bark before disappearing completely inside. Miguel knowing abuelita did not like Dante wandering into the kitchen at night, hurried after the Xolo dog in attempts to thwart him if he should head in that direction but then stopped when he didn’t see his dog anymore.

“Dante? Where are you boy? Dante?” Miguel hissed quietly not to wake his family.

He noticed then that the door to the workshop was open and so deciding that is where Dante disappeared to, he walked inside being careful to be quiet.

“Dante?” He hissed again.

There was still no sign of the dog and Miguel took the moment to look around the workshop at night. It was kinda creepy; it smelled of leather, wood and tools to cut material, sand wood, smooth fabric and various other sharp objects either laid out on work benches or hung from the ceiling. Said ceiling decorated by shoes that had found themselves lodged in between the boards. Miguel shook his head with a smirk remembering once when he and Berto competed to see how many shoes they could get up there and to stick for a minute. Needless to say when abuelita walked in she was mortified and pulled off both shoes to run after them. They both cleaned the workshop for two weeks after that. Miguel had won though. 

That’s when he heard a soft bark and then the creak of a door, he whirled around seeing the door to the family room and kitchen was open.

“Oh no, Dante!” He hissed now convinced he had found a new way into the locked up kitchen.

He ran after the dog but Dante eluded him again either hiding or wandering into another part. Miguel passed through the living room glancing at the lone dinner table and feeling a pang of emptiness. He felt something was missing and paused to look around. The house was quiet, as it should be so late at night, but... it still felt off. Looking down at the square of moonlight created by the window panes on the ground his boots, which were scuffed up, gently padded the woven rug at his feet successfully kicking up a few particles of dust. He walked slower now looking around the kitchen and felt as if he didn’t belong, as if he hadn’t woken up for fourteen years running into this kitchen at his abuelita‘s call or sitting on the old patched up sofa watching fútbol matches with his family, or wrestling tournaments with Berto. A small bout of nervousness formed in his gut and he swallowed hard as he moved forward towards the hallway. His hand brushed against the wall as he walked, running over the bumpy and cracked paint. The small pictures and paintings that hung seemed lifeless and eerie, watching him like an intruder. He passed his cousin’s rooms and his abuelita‘s on tip toes, mindful of the time that it was. He looked from side to side feeling cramped and out of place, when he looked up though one door was open. It was Socorro’s room, once Mama Coco’s but now a nursery. He also noticed Dante’s shadow, which was silhouetted against the small amount of escaping moonlight in the room. He rushed in the room the, ready to scold the Xoloitzcuintli but when he entered the room it was empty. Fear gathered in the pit of his stomach and he raced to his baby sister’s crib and fell back in shock. Coco wasn’t there, Dante wasn’t there...

“Mama! Papa!” Miguel yelled.

There was no answer and he started to breathe heavy as he scrambled to his feet not caring now how loud he was. His sister was missing! Why hadn’t nobody noticed?! 

Racing down the hall to his parents room he ripped open the door and started to yell.

“Mama! Papa! Somethings hap-,” he began but then faltered.

Their bed was empty too, untouched and made perfectly. 

“What’s going on?” Miguel whispered and backed out of his parents room slowly bolting down to the next room.

“Abuelita! Rosa! Tia Chelo! Berto — is anyone home?!” Miguel yelled.

He ran from room to empty room his panic and fear building with each cold, untouched space that he came across. After checking the twins room last, he finally allowed himself to step all the way backwards and his back hit the wall as he slid to the ground. He hugged his knees and looked down the empty hallway with all the doors opened and shivered. Ready to ball up and let the tears in his stinging eyes fall he heard it again, Dante’s barking. He was hesitant this time, he didn’t want to go and find another empty room. See his dog’s shadow and not see his dog. He was stuck in this — nightmare.

“Si t-that’s exactly what this is Miguel... a nightmare, I just have to wake up! That’s right! Wake up!” He said his voice growing to a shout. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, slapped his cheeks till they stung and then opened his eyes. He was still in the hallway and there was still no one, no sound and no light besides the moon. He quickly shut his eyes again and pinched his arm hard. But when he opened his eyes again it hadn’t worked. He jumped as Dante barked, this time though it sounded closer and he looked to his side to see his dog looking at him expectingly.

“Dante where is everyone?” Miguel mumbled.

Dante barked again and turned around heading towards a room and leaning down on his front legs to sniff the space between the door and the ground. Miguel’s eyes widened though, there was a warm gold glow from beneath the door and he jumped up. A light! That had to be a good sign right. It meant someone was there! Racing towards the door, which he realized was his room, and yanked open the door ready to greet whoever was there, but then stood in the doorway with a awe struck expression. 

His room was covered in candles, candles he hadn’t remembered putting there at all. Some seemed to be there for quite a while, as the white wax melted and hardened over the edges of the two small dressers. It reminded him of his old De La Cruz shrine up in the attic. Except now, his room seemed to be its own kind of shrine.

It was strange. It should look and feel not right, but for some reason it did feel right. His room looked old dusty, unused and not his own. He walked up to one of his dressers and looked at the pictures he had placed there. Of Mama Coco, Socorro, his parents and abuelita. He even had some old photos he found tucked away in his grandparent’s closet. Old photos of his deceased family, a few he had chose to frame so he could wake up and see them every morning to never forget them. He reached out to the picture of his parents holding Socorro and himself standing there with huge smiles. He felt content though. Even though he was alone and it didn’t feel like home, he felt safe and warm. 

“Dante what’s going on?” Miguel asked quietly still looking at his sister’s face.

Dante brushed against his leg and Miguel felt him leaving the room, so he turned around himself, and saw a colorful glow seem to fade down the hallway and he felt drawn to it. Leaving his candlelit room he followed the glow of different colors as it exited the home through the door that led to the courtyard in the kitchen. Before exiting Miguel took one last glance down the hallway and felt an urge, the urge to say goodbye. It scared him but at the same time felt right, so instead he mumbled something not so final to the empty house.

“Buenos noches,” he said and closed the door.

He looked around then for that colorful glow and noticed now a few candles like the ones in his room scattered about the compound. He took them all in as he walked into the center before noticing the glow again. It came from the ofrenda room, and from the small alter space a brighter, warmer glow. He, now with a little more confidence, drifted towards the room and entered. It was beautiful. Even when he hadn’t fully understood the true meaning behind Dia De Los Muertos, he still appreciated the beauty of his family’s alter. Covered in a mass of marigolds and candles he looked up to the top. It seemed as if the petals were glowing, flickering to life like they had two years ago. Miguel shook it off as a reflection of all the candles and took in the rest of the ofrenda. The picture of Mama Coco and her parents had been moved down to the bottom, but he found that he moved his eyes slowly over all the pictures he made an effort to visit everyday. Finally stopping at the bottom shelf he took in the new addition. 

“Papa Hector’s guitar?” Miguel wondered aloud reaching out to the silvery instrument laying against the lowest shelf. 

It had been set perfectly between his Mama Coco’s solo picture and her family picture on the other side. It wasn’t dusty like many things in the house had been, which probably meant it had been placed there recently. But - didn’t he have the guitar earlier? When had someone moved it or rather... took it from him? 

Miguel looked down at it with furrowed brows curious now as to how it got here. However when he heard padding behind him, he turned around and gasped.

“Dante,” he breathed in amazement.

The dogs sad demeanor was gone replaced with the loose tongue, goofy expression and unfocused eyes that made him appear like he was looking at two separate things. But instead of the dull, hairless, gray street dog, he was an expression of bright and moving colors, seemingly glowing off his skin and not quite piecing well together, yet still captivating. Two unimpressive wings popped from the dog’s shoulder blades and he gave a playful bark, jumping about in place, flapping his wings and gliding back down to the ground each time.

“Hehe Dante what happened boy? Why do you look like an alebrije?” Miguel asked and chuckled, walking up to the dog and placing the guitar beside him as he scratched the dog’s neck.

Dante gave him a long, slobbery lick Miguel shouting in disgust as he stood and wiped his face laughing. Dante gave a few sharp barks running in a circle before shooting out of the ofrenda room.

“Dante! Wait!” Miguel yelled grabbing his guitar and tripping over himself as he ran after the dog who left the compound altogether.

“Dante!” Miguel called and slid out into the road.

He faltered though and looked all around him. The streets were lined in columns and rows of waxing candles, candles that had not been there when he woke up. The scene was not right however, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. They were all burning steady and that when Miguel realized — there was no wind. Not one flame flickered and it unnerved him. How could that be? He heard Dante bark again and looked up to see his friend looking behind him a little down the road, but took off again when Miguel met his eyes.

“Wait! I- I think we should go home and wait for Mama and Papa! Or abuelita!” Miguel cried.

Though he took off running himself, not wanting to lose sight of his hairless friend again. Though it’d be harder now with how colorful the dog was. Miguel didn’t noticed the growing number of candles that seemed to spread out like an ocean of light. White wax dripped down walls as the candles were tucked in corners and crevices, home windows even had them creating softer, muted glows against the light outside, small plumes of smoke creating a permeable haze to his surroundings and as he followed the alebrije Xolo dog he noticed then the sheer number as he slowed to a stop at the entrance to the cemetery. It looked as if Dia De Los Muertos had come early, everything decorated in flowers, smelling of food and incense, and even more candles spread out upon graves. Except there were no families, no bouts of music, no offering, or soft weeping. It was quiet, especially without the wind and Miguel began a steady walk rather then a jog after his dog who finally slowed to a trot. 

Miguel smiled softly around him, it brought back fond memories of his adventure two years ago, especially seeing Dante in his alebrije form. He stopped in front of the old De La Cruz mausoleum and pondered on the changes. Though they could remove a statue taking down a grave would still be unacceptable, even if the man was a proven murderer. So instead it remained untouched by the beautiful decorations. No candles or Marigold petals decorated the white marble, the stone had been allowed to collect dirt and spent many a month not cleaned. No one laid offerings before it anymore and Ernesto’s smirking face had been boarded over. Miguel was sure that his picture had been unhung and covered in a cloth inside. Even though Miguel firmly believed against anyone being forgotten, he wouldn’t mind if this man slipped a few minds sooner than later. He felt a tug on his red hoodie then and looked down at Dante who was biting the very end pulling him to the right.

“Okay, okay! I’m coming,” Miguel said holding up a hand.

He went to slip the guitar in his other hand over his back but then frowned at the strap.

“How did it break?” He mumbled fingering a piece of the snapped leather.

Dante seemed to wince at this statement but Miguel didn’t notice as he shrugged and indicated forwards.

“Vamanos boy,” he said.

Dante hurried forward then catching up to Miguel. He stopped once to sniff the ground before weaving through two graves. Miguel followed him trusting the alebrije to get him out of whatever was happening. The fourteen year old yawned then and rubbed his eyes.

“Dante can we go home yet?” He asked.

Dante excitedly yipped and Miguel jumped in surprise but watched as the dog raced forward towards a small portion of especially bright candles and disappeared into thin air.

“Ah! Dante!” Miguel yelled his eyes widening in alarm. 

But then as quickly as he disappeared the dog’s head reappeared, panting happily out of thin air.

“Dante what happened to the rest of you?” Miguel asked.

The dog cocked his head to the side wondering what Miguel was talking about. But then something of a realization seemed to hit the dog and he came back to him his body materializing again. He grabbed his sleeve and tugged him forward in the direction and Miguel frowned. Where was he supposed to go with all those candles? 

And why did they seem brighter?

He squinted as the flames seemed to cluster into a single muddled image. As he got closer it grew more distorted and brighter. Miguel took the back of his sleeve and rubbed his eyes again. When he looked it just seemed to be a cluster of orange, but as he blinked several times and squinted more he could begin to make out small individual pieces of a collective orange and gold image. His eyes widened then as the the scene in front of him changed to something he didn’t think he’d be seeing so soon again. He stopped at the very edge, the small delicate petals collecting at the very top of his shoes.

“The Bridge?” He whispered in disbelief. 

The beautiful Marigold Bridge lay before him again, glowing in its splendid magical way. It was as spectacular as the day he had first seen it and - just as frightening. What had he done? Why could he see it? And why did this time seem so different? He watched then as Dante passed the invisible space between the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead. He walked a few feet ahead before turning back to Miguel and sitting, waiting. And then, for Miguel, it hit him.

“Dante why can I see the Bridge?” Miguel asked softly, his voice shaky.

The dog sensed his boy’s crashing sadness and looked up putting his head down. Miguel bit his lip and reached out then, pausing abruptly when his hand touched the barrier that rippled beneath his fingers. Then with a hard swallow he reached all the way through and felt the tears build again. As his hand passed through his skin disappeared in a flurry of gold dust and marigolds. He stopped going further, breathing heavy and looked at his hand turning it around and over. Instead of the tan, copper, sun kissed skin it was milky white bones. This time it wasn’t accompanied by the ethereal imitation of a body either. He wiggled his fingers and a deep frown set into his face.

“I’m... dead,” he whispered.

Dante let out slow whine and lowered his whole body to the ground. Miguel squeezed his eyes shaking his head. He didn’t want to believe it, he didn’t even remember how- how did it happen? He looked behind him then, the candles in the graveyard seemed to close in around him though as if telling him there was no way but forward now. But forward wasn’t quite forward either though. Death was final wasn’t it? He would never grow up, never get to see his little sister grow up, watch his parents get old, never get to share his music with his family, with a future family of his own, and no way to pass memories to children of his own. He felt like a failure and he felt... frustrated. 

“Why - why did this have to happen?! And why don’t I remember?!” Miguel shouted to no one in particular. 

His arms shook as his grip around the neck of the guitar tightened but then he released as he looked down at the guitar. His Papa Hector’s skull guitar, which he treasured so much was with him. That wasn’t all either... he could see his Papa Hector again. He looked up past the bridge and could barely make out the outline of the colorful world on the other side. On the other side of that bridge would be his family. Maybe not the living family he so desperately wasn’t ready to leave behind, but being placed into the arms of his other family didn’t sound too bad either. And since he had no other choice he took a deep breath. One he clearly needed no longer and stepped through the entire barrier. He didn’t feel anything just watched the petals and dust fade away and looked down at both hands. 

They were all bone now and when he pulled up his sleeve, all he saw was bone. He reached up one hand to his collarbone feeling the distinct and jutting clavicle, he ran his hand along it shuddering at the odd feeling of passing through where his neck would be, feeling all along to the back of his spine and then upwards. He didn’t feel jutting cheekbones like he thought he would, not surprising considering how young he was and barely had been able to develop the defining features that would make him look like his- he tried to push that thought from his mind. No need to dwell on what was and focus on the now. He chuckled slightly as he slid his hand along the front of his face and passed over where his nose had been and didn’t feel one there. This wasn’t so bad he told himself, as he traced along his right eye socket and then reached down to his shirt and pulled it up. He huffed in amusement as he looked at his hipbones jutting out of his jeans, his belt squeezing them close to the bone not to let them drop, his missing organs were weird not expecting the emptiness as he bent in half as best he could and looked right at his spine.

“Cool,” he mumbled with a small sigh.

After inspecting what he could of his new state of being he looked over to Dante and smiled sadly at his alebrije who still looked sadly down at the ground.

“I’m sure whatever happened you tried to save me boy, gracias Dante,” Miguel said softly patting the top of his dog’s head.

Dante panted happily pressing up to Miguel’s hand and Miguel chuckled. He looked up then behind him at the graveyard that had been there but it seemed to distort as though looking at a reflection in water before disappearing and the flowers fell graciously over the edge. He felt sad, like he didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone, he hoped they wouldn’t miss him to badly. He worried for his Mama and Papa, and for his Abuelita who just lost her Mama and now her grandson, he hoped his cousins and Tias and Tios would be alright and most of all he wanted his sister to grow up remembering him through music and tell all the stories he shared with her, and tell his. He took a fortifying breath as another wave of sadness rolled over him. He wouldn’t let himself dwell on this, he knew there was nothing he could do or change even if he wanted to. So he smirked holding out his arms and shook himself, he laughed as his bones rattled, literally, and made his shoulders jump his head bouncing off his spine for a moment before reconnecting and he laughed. Dante barked happily as he watched Miguel smile.

“Shake it out, like Papa Hector said right?” Miguel said.

Dante jumped up and licked his face, Miguel recoiling with a chuckle, the slober was still gross, skin or no skin. Dante did a circle before throwing back his head and howling. Miguel grinned then and let out a loud grito to accompany the howl. Feeling much better now and ready to see his family he puffed up his chest and straighten his shoulders.

“Let’s go boy! We got our famalia to see” Miguel said.

And with a new found confidence and a pep in his step he started a light jog across the bridge, Dante at his side and anticipation in his heart — well, his metaphorical one at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed doing this chapter. I feel like Miguel crossing over hasn’t really been done like this (if it has please let me know id love to check it out!) and I wanted to capture how he felt about it without the whole family’s emotions. Obviously he’s devastated but I think from being in the Land of the Dead before and having his family there he’s okay about letting things go... but he still doesn’t remember how he died... and what happened to the driver?????


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the reunion begins...

If Hector knew one thing better than anything, it was his wife. 

Yes, music was a critical part of him and no one would deny his wisdom and expertise in his craft. However, his wife was foremost in his spectrum of what he knew well and he knew things weren’t good when she was speechless. Imelda wielded her power and command with an iron shoe. Yet she was also good at holding out an argument, stimulating conversation or playful banter when she wanted too. And she was never speechless unless it was something truly, awfully shocking. He had seen it only a handful of times, the most recent before now, being when Miguel told her how Hector was the reason he learned that family was the most important thing in the world and how De La Cruz had murdered him. She had quickly recovered with an angry comeback but she had been speechless, if only for a moment. Now however it was longer than a moment and everyone was watching her rigid back, stand there frozen, a muffled voice calling out something on the dangling telephone. Hector stood up then concerned about his wife and walked over to her with an outstretched hand.

“Imelda?” He mumbled.

This seemed to jog her back into alertness as she jumped in surprise and Hector jumped back with hands up apologetically, even though she still had her back turned to him.

“Wha- what- oh! Oh ay dios mio!” She started frantically fumbling about pulling up the telephone and pressing it to her skull tightly.

“Lo siento, what did you say again?” She asked her voice shaky.

Hector heard more mumbling on the end and Imelda nodding with a small affirming sound.

“Okay we’ll be right down,” she said.

There was more chatter and Imelda’s face turned cold.

“Por qué no?” She asked then placing a hand on her hip bone.

It took a moment before Imelda finally turned around, she was still listening to what Hector couldn’t hear but the angry expression was now replaced by one of confusion.

“Coco?” She asked.

Everyone now looked at the woman sitting at the table with a certain curiosity, and she shrugged, as if everyone thought she knew what was going on but she didn’t. 

“Si but-“ Imelda began but then was cut off and she sighed.

Hector cocked his head to the side at his wife who nodded once before ending the call.

“If it’s alright I suppose... gracias Senora” Imelda said and hung up.

“Mama?” Coco asked.

Imelda looked about the room at all her family before moving to her husbands side and setting a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. He frowned and wrapped his arm around her rib cage and laid his other hand over hers on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, mi amor?” He asked.

She patted his shoulder, straightened her back, lifted her chin and looked to Coco.

“A family member has joined us and has asked that you pick them up Coco,” Imelda said.

“Me, Mama?” Coco asked.

“Si,” Imelda nodded.

“Did they say who it was?” Rosita asked.

“No, just that they wanted to see Coco first,” Imelda said.

“Could it be -?” Julio began.

“Elena?” Victoria finished, her eyes widening.

Hector took in the surprised looks on Coco and Julio’s faces. They knew that Elena was old but wasn’t it a bit soon? Not that it meant anything, Victoria had died young, not as young as Hector thankfully, but still before her parents. She had expressed once after last year’s Dia De Los Muertos that it made her sad to see her younger sister, but she was proud of her and couldn’t wait to tell her when she could. Hector knew Victoria wasn’t one to express much emotion, as he told his granddaughter before she was much like Imelda in that way, so it humbled him when she opened up. He could’ve swore he saw her shed a few tears when she was reunited with Coco. 

His daughter stood up then and brushed off her skirt nodding.

“Let me get going then I suppose,” she said kissing Julio’s forehead and patting Victoria’s shoulder in passing.

“I can go with you Coco, or your Papa—“ Imelda said and Hector nodded.

“No it’s okay Mama, I’ll be fine with Pepita, you prepare for when we get back,” Coco smiled warmly holding her mother’s hands.

“Si Mija, we’ll all be ready when you return,” she said.

It was tradition in the household to have a huge feast when a family member arrived. For Coco, Rosita had cooked everything from her favorite breakfast to her favorite dessert. Hector nearly cried at all the familiar smells before his daughter had even arrived. When she did they made sure to hide him and save him for last to greet his daughter, allowing them space to reconnect after so many years. Hector had bawled like a child when he finally got to give Coco the hug he wanted to. Coco hadn’t let go of his hand all night as if afraid he’d slip through her fingers and he regretted with every bone he was made of, of creating that desperation within her. After the feast they had sat in the living room together and everyone watched and listened happily as the daughter and father sung “Remember Me” together after so many years singing it alone. Hector had broken down into tears afterwards, surprised his choked up voice hadn’t given up halfway through the lullaby and Imelda had scolded him to keep himself together, literally. It had been a joyous night though, even if it had been the first one of the end of her life. 

“Let me start cooking again! We’ll need more tamales if Elena is coming!” Rosita sung happily ready to prepare her niece a huge meal.

“At least our little Elena doesn’t like cabrito,” Oscar mumbled to his brother who nodded.

“Ah! Let us set up some decorations si Mija?” Julio said to Victoria.

“Si!” Victoria said with a smile.

“Let me help with those!” Hector offered.

“I suppose I can help Rosita in the kitchen if I’m not needed there this time, it’ll be my first time welcoming famalia here! Felipe! Oscar! Clean up the table! Vamanos!” Imelda commanded already taking lead.

Everyone bustled about starting to prepare and Hector turned to Coco, he peppered her face with a few kisses and she chuckled in delight.

“See you two in a minute,” he said.

“We’ll be right back,” she said, and Hector nodded going to retrieve her shawl from the coat rack by the door and wrapped it around her placing a final kiss to her forehead. 

“Abuelo! Can you help us reach the streamers?” Victoria called from upstairs.

“Coming Mija!” Hector called excitedly and bounded up to his granddaughter and son-in-law.

Coco smiled as she left the house with everyone busy inside and walked over to where Pepita lay curled by the fountain in the front of the courtyard. She lifted her large head hearing Coco’s footsteps and purred warmly. Pepita had always loved Coco, often the cat had slept in her bed as a young girl even if Imelda wasn’t thrilled about the cat hair. But Coco had welcomed the company, especially when she got older and couldn’t sneak into bed with her mother when she was feeling lonely. 

“Hola Pepita,” Coco cooed scratching under the cat’s chin.

The deep rumbling from Pepita’s heavy purring rattled the little bones in Coco’s hand and she laughed at the tickling sensation at they vibrated against each other.

“We have a family member to pick up! Let’s not keep Elena waiting, si?” Coco smiled.

Pepita stood on all fours then, stretching out her front legs and shuddering with a huge yawn, menacing teeth made known but then gone again as she leaned down opening a wing for Coco to climb on. Such a feat impossible when she was alive, but easy now as she grabbed the scruff of Pepita’s neck and pulled herself up settling between the cat’s shoulder blades. Pepita stood up then and spread out her wings and with one leap, vaulted into the air effortlessly flapping her wings once to maintain a comfortable altitude to glide. 

Coco enjoyed this, when her mother had picked her up not so long ago she had excitedly pointed everything out like a child again. Pointing to colorful, bright buildings that caught her eye or certain skeletons doing things that should frighten her, like dislocating a limb, but all the while amused her. She wondered if Elena would enjoy the flight as well. Her youngest daughter was quite straightforward like Victoria was, but she had her carefree nature that sometimes got the better of her; she hoped she would like it. Coco also took the time to prepare to help Elena for the initial shock of everything. She wouldn’t be surprised if her daughter was upset, of course she’d be happy to see her Mama, Papa and everyone again but she knew how hard it was to know what she left behind. She knew it would be hard especially after taking care of everyone for so long after Coco could not. She’d feel like she should’ve done more and Coco would have to reassure her that she had raised everyone to be strong and that Enrique and Franco could more than take care of everyone. Then her thoughts fell to a certain someone again. 

“Poor Miguelito, oh mi hijo, he must be devastated,” she sighed aloud.

Pepita let out a small sounding whine of pity at the sound of Coco’s sad tone.

She hoped her grandson would be okay, she knew that he would know that Elena was with them but still, it would be hard. Having to lose his Abuelita so close to Dia De Los Muertos, after losing her before the holiday the year before. Coco sighed, closing her eyes and laid a hand to her where heart had been feeling a phantom pain ache there. She couldn’t be sad though, couldn’t be sad for what she couldn’t change. Death was apart of life and that included loss, however unexpected and painful it may be. But it wasn’t truly an end and she hoped that Miguel held onto that same thought. She knew her grandson would help the family through the loss though, just like he had when she passed away. She opened her eyes as she felt Pepita begin to descend and watched as they approached the Flower Bridge Station connected to the large Department of Family Reunions building. 

The Marigold Bridge looked as beautiful as ever pristine and untouched when not in use. In the distance, she could see the rows of others that connected to other parts of the Land of the Living, like golden beacons that stretched into the beyond. Pepita flapped her wings as she got closer to the ground kicking up dust and wayward petals scattered around in a less busy part of the square. It wasn’t as packed as it was on Dia De Los Muertos but, a few skeletons ducked and ran for cover, some uttering small shrieks as the large alebrije found a spot amongst them to land. When her paws touched the ground, she leaned down once more offering her wing as a slide. Coco easily slid off and wound around to Pepita’s face. 

“It’ll be one moment niña, you’ll wait here si?” Coco said scratching under her chin again.

Pepita blew warm air affectionately through her nostrils and let out a small rumble from her chest in affirmative. Coco nodded and headed up the steps of the building with a smile on her face. 

This was it. 

Ready to see her youngest daughter again, she felt excitement build within her. She couldn’t wait to hug her and talk with her, something she had lost in the later years of her life and something she missed greatly. Glad she had the moment alone with her before she was welcomed into the family. She threw on a greeting smile as she exited the revolving doors walking up to the attendant sitting at the front desk.

“Hola Senor,” she said.

The younger skeleton dressed in a white button down and tie, looked up and gave her a large friendly smile. He seemed to be young, not as young as Victoria or her Papa had been when they died, but still young. His markings were colorful, swirls mostly clustered on his cheek bones and around his jaw, dipping to his chin where a blue flower sat. If they meant anything she was given the impression he was a friendly talker and smiled often in life. 

“Buenos tardes, Senora! What can I help you with?” He greeted brightly.

“I’m here to pick up a member of mi famalia,” she said.

“Oh an arrival! Let’s see here on the roster— oh, I see, it’s this one,” he began happily but then his smile faltered, his tone became depressed and his expression became a mix of uncomfortableness and trying to remain upbeat.

Coco raised a brow bone ready to ask what was wrong but the man forced a comforting smile and stood up. 

“Right this way Senora! Your famalia is with Senorita Marcella, she’ll help you finalize all the details of death and send you home when finished,” he said though his voice shook slightly when he said ‘death’.

“Gracias,” she said following him.

He nodded to the two security guards standing besides the doors to the offices as they passed through and then pointed to a desk where a lone woman sat typing away at a computer.

“There’s Senorita Marcella — c-congratulations on being reunited with another family member Senora,” he said seemingly unsure about his congrats as he escaped quickly through the open doors that shut behind him.

Coco frowned at the man’s actions. She didn’t think they’d be upset about reuniting families, as was the job description. The man had seemed especially disturbed and misplaced about his actions though. She shrugged it off thinking he must’ve had quite a few Reunions today and it must’ve been hard thinking about all the death, no matter if it was his job or not. She continued on to the woman and Marcella looked up sensing her approach.

“Ah! Are you Senora Socorro Rivera?” She asked.

“Si! Coco is just fine though,” she responded happily shaking the lady’s hand as she stood.

“A pleasure to help you tonite Senora, lo siento for interrupting your dinner... I hope you’ll pass on my apologies to Senora Imelda,” she said.

“Mama is fine now that she gets too cook for another member of our famalia,” Coco said with a small giggle.

“Si - I hope everyth- I... well- if you follow me, they’re eager to see you,” Marcella said, her voice screwed up though in a high pitched shaky whisper as she tried to find words.

Coco looked her up and down now wondering why everyone seemed so nervous about this reunion. She hadn’t sensed any level of hesitation when she and her Mama had been reunited, in fact there were attendants and workers clapping and cheering when they left. However, her suspicions left her mind as Marcella held out a hand to a waiting room and she eagerly followed. No matter if the workers weren’t excited for this, she was, the family was, and that’s all that really mattered. Marcella placed a hand on the doorknob though and paused. Coco frowned then at her hesitancy and she felt the urge to rip off her shoe and demand the woman step aside. She was her mother’s daughter after all and even if her markings said she was more like Hector, she certainly could be Imelda if need be. However, after another second of dwindling patience she pushed down on the handle and turned to her stepping back.

“Congratulations on your reunion,” she said routinely with another similar forced smile to the man’s and swung the door inwards.

Forgetting the awkward senorita, Coco grinned and walked into the small seemingly empty room, ready to see her daughter and give her a large loving hug. 

But what she saw stopped her in the doorway. Every bone in her body froze then. Dread filled within her and disbelief crawled to the forefront of her mind. Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened, threatening to unhinge. Although when the other occupant in the room turned around, their face contorted into a small scrunched-up, sad, teary eyed, and relieved expression despite the horrified expression she wore.

“Mama Coco!” Miguel cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry! But cliffhangers are just so good sometimes and I couldn’t help it. I don’t wanna rush it but am I taking it too slow? Please let me know! Scold me if you must but I promise the next chapter will be nothing but fluff! Fluffy! Fluffy! Emotional! Fluff! All comments welcome :)


	5. Chapter 5 - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna split the family reunion into two parts! The 2nd part will be up tomorrow! Enjoy Mama Coco and Miguel emotional fluff!

Coco didn’t know how long she stood there. A few seconds, minutes... it felt like an eternity though. Her mind raked for words that she could not speak. For a reality she could not accept. She reached out then to what she thought, to what she so desperately hoped was the illusion in front of her. Neither one of them had moved an inch but when she raised her arm with her outstretched hand the boy in front of her broke into tears opening up his arms slightly.

“M- Miguel?” She finally choked out barely above a whisper.

He seemed to understand her shock and nodded slowly.

“It’s me Mama Coco, it’s really me,” he sniffled rubbing at the tears forming along the edges of his eye sockets. 

Her knees wobbled as her legs felt weak and she let out a heart wrenching gasp as she hurried forward, her little grandson meeting her halfway. 

“Oh mijo! Miguel! Oh my presioso, quierdo, maravilloso, Miguelito!” She cried crushing his form against her. 

His tiny head rested beneath her chin, his hair brushing the smooth bone and his jaw rested on her clavicle, the bones clacking slightly against each other. She pressed her hand into his hair holding him as close as she could. His hands fisted into her shawl and his little bones shook with each sob he took.

“I missed you so much Mama Coco - so much,” he mumbled rubbing his forehead against her jaw.

“Oh my little Miguel,” she whispered turning her face down to press into his hair. 

The familiar smell of the shoe shine he used and marigolds mixed together made the tears fall quicker. It had been two years but nothing had changed. He hadn’t even grown, he still fit perfectly at her height and his small arms could barely fit around her. Such a small boy, too small. Too young. She hiccuped on air again as she gently rocked side to side holding him. His shaking stopped but he didn’t lessen his grip and neither did she. The room seemed so big and yet there wasn’t space to breathe. Emotions whirled through her like a terrible storm. Happiness at seeing her Miguel again, yet horribly twisted by the reality of the reason she could. He was dead. He was fourteen and he was dead. She couldn’t wrap herself around that small number. Everything about this was wrong no matter how right it felt to hold him again. She sunk to her knees then, Miguel following her and finally he picked his head up from the crook of her collarbone. His hands moved to hold the sides of her dress then as he looked up at her with a quivering lip that shook his small jaw and big, glossy eyes. She barely contained the small cry escaping slightly through her lips. 

Here he was. Her little great grandson who, coincidentally, she had been thinking about only a mere hour ago. She couldn’t believe it, and still didn’t want to. She had been expecting his grandmother, thinking about how devastated he would be to lose Elena and yet every thought she had, had been reversed in the mere moment she had walked through that door. She was holding his small biceps, feeling the thin bones beneath his red hoodie she remembered him wearing so often when she was al- when they were alive. 

Oh that stung.

That stung so badly she had to bite back the threatening wail that was rising within her. She reached up to his cheek bone, the tear sliding down rolled over her thumb and dropped to the ground between them. The jutting cheekbones that she and most of the family had weren’t there, only the smooth, roundness of a child’s skull. He pressed against her hand lightly like he had in life. She held his face softly fearing that any touch would shatter him. Scared now more than ever that she could lose him. How had she forgotten how truly fragile life could be? And how unfair it was ripping a child barely alive to know what wonders life could truly bring. Miguel reached up to her hand then and squeezed it tightly, before he stood up and through his tears gave her a smile.

A smile.

Coco felt her figurative heart shatter to pieces at that smile. The image of his round face, with that single dimple in his goofy grin, replaced the skull for moment. She started to cry hard again and Miguel squeezed her hands tighter.

“Would you like me to call another member of your famalia?” Marcella asked gently from the door.

Miguel looked up to say something, worried for his great grandmother but Coco collected herself to say no.

“Un momento mas, por favor,” Coco said.

“Si of course... I’ll start what little paperwork there is so you can go home quickly,” Marcella said and closed the door.

Coco looked back to Miguel then and he helped her to her feet. She slipped her hands from his, going back to holding his face now and lifting it up to hers. He looked puzzled for a moment before she forced a shaky smile.

“You look just like your Papa Hector — and me of course,” she mumbled warmly, though her voice shook.

She ran her finger under his eyes where the swirls of bright orange and red painted his cheekbones. Dotted around the eyes were a darker orange that got bigger towards the corners. The blue chin pattern and the mixture of the three colors in the design upon his forehead. The only difference was the blue dot above his upper lip where his beauty mark used to be. All in all, in life he had truly been the replica of her Papa, as she always knew he would. 

“Really? I h-haven’t gotten a chance to see what my markings look like since I - I got here,” he said excitedly.

He pressed his pointer fingers together sheepishly with a small smile and looked up at her. She remembered this, remembered this look that he’d give to his Mama and sometimes his Abuelita. He was nervous, nervous that she wouldn’t approve or she’d be disappointed and was hoping she wouldn’t be. 

“Oh Miguel,” she sighed heavily and took him into another hug this one not so crushing but just as loving.

He relaxed, his tense shoulders dropping as he pressed his cheek to her sternum and let out a long exhale. She pet his head and rubbed her thumb against his spine.

“I’m seeing you again too soon mijo,” she said then softly. 

He knew that she didn’t not want to see him, to hold him and talk to him. She had wanted to, just as much as he with her. But their reunion was too premature. He nodded against her chest.

“I know Mama Coco, I know,” he said.

She let out a small disbelieving laugh and shook her head, she stepped back to look at him and placed her hands on her hips.

“It’s supposed to be me comforting you Miguel! Not the other way around... I - I’m so proud of you for being so strong mijo but you don’t need to be,” she said.

He smiled and shrugged rubbing his one arm at his side with a nervous expression, one she had seen on her Papa when he was on the receiving end of Mama’s anger. The action made her eyes crinkle in thoughtfulness.

“I know Mama Coco, and I still feel so - I don’t know the words for it... I didn’t want this to happen of course, but it did. I don’t want to have to think about it and get myself so upset you know? It’s really not so bad either! Promesa!” Miguel said hurriedly and threw out his arms, puffing his chest and grinning.

She could see in his eyes the pain of what he had lost but she knew he wasn’t lying. He was okay, and he had accepted what had happened even if she, and most definitely the famalia, could not. So she took a deep breath and asked the question on the forefront of her mind, one she didn’t really want to know the answer for.

“How mijo? What has brought you to us so soon?” She asked.

He cringed and she feared whatever had happened must’ve been awful as he looked away and hugged his arms.

“Lo siento Mama Coco, I just - I can’t remember what happened... it’s all a blurry mess and the only thing I remember is Dante’s barking and something - loud but I don’t know what it is,” he said.

She rushed to his side pulling his cast away face towards her again and he looked at her sadly but she shook her head and held his chin.

“Don’t be sorry Mijo, we’ll figure it out and when we do you will have your famalia to support you,” she said kissing his forehead.

He smiled again then and nodded before letting loose a small yawn, his jaw creaking only slightly before he reached up to rub his eyes.

“My poor bebe, you must be so exhausted,” Coco cooed over her grandson who nodded gently.

“Can we go home Mama Coco?” He said.

“Of course Miguel, let’s see if that senorita is finished with your paperwork,” Coco said.

Miguel held her hand then as she pulled open the door and peered out into the empty building, save for Marcella still tapping away at her computer. She looked up then when she heard the door open and smiled sadly standing as they approached.

“How is everything? Is there anything I can get for you?” Marcella asked.

Coco noticed her nervous demeanor gone replaced with a genuine interest to help. The attendant’s awkwardness was obvious to her now, the death of any child wasn’t something to be celebrated. Coco squeezed Miguel’s hand, he rubbed his eyes using his other.

“No Senorita Marcella, all we’d like to do is go home now,” Coco said.

“Si, si, of course! Here you are... we don’t usually do this type of thing but since the matriarch of the family isn’t here to sign off for proof of relation you can bring the form home and bring it back tomorrow,” Marcella said.

“Gracias Senorita,” Coco said.

“Oh! Before I forget! Miguel when you remember how you passed away we’d like you to come down so we can finish up that part of the paperwork,” Marcella said with a sympathetic smile at the boy.

“Lo siento Senorita Marcella,” Miguel said.

“No es un problema ninito, it’s not too rare for those to forget how they died to make the transition process easier, especially if their death was sudden or tra- traumatic,” she faltered at the end wishing she hadn’t said what she did.

Coco looked over quickly at Miguel who’s hand tightened around her’s more so and his looked down at his feet, his wide eyes filled with uncertainty. 

“It’s okay Miguel, I’m sure it wasn’t bad whatever it was... for now let’s go home, eat and see the famalia, si? I’m sure Papa will be so excited to see you,” Coco smiled pinching his cheek bone playfully, wiggling his head while she did.

This seemed to bring the smile back as he chuckled and rubbed the spot where she had pinched his cheek. They thanked Marcella who sat back down at her desk sending them off warmly. Before they reached the doors she jumped up though yelling out for a moment and shouted over to them.

“Oh ninito! Your alebrije is outside! I’m sorry he couldn’t wait in here it’s just, well he just kept trying to chew on the... security guards,” she laughed nervously at the end.

“Oh lo siento Senorita! I’ll make sure Dante doesn’t cause any more trouble,” Miguel laughed.

“Buenos noches amigos,” Marcella said waving to them.

The security opened the doors for them again and Miguel excitedly tugged on Coco’s hand grabbing her attention. His eyes were bright, with a face splitting grin.

“I’m excited to see Papa Hector the most, but don’t tell Mama Imelda that,” Miguel said.

“Of course Mijo! Mama would kill Papa if that was the case... and it’s very impossible to kill a dead person but Mama would find a way,” Coco said.

Miguel laughed at that holding where his stomach used to be as he threw back his head. She winced watching his bare spine careen backwards at a sharp angle. She didn’t know how long it’d take her getting used to seeing him this way. The thought was chased away quickly at Miguel’s loud gasp.

“Pepita!” He shouted out letting go of Coco’s hand and running to the alebrije.

Pepita’s head snapped up from licking her paws and the cat’s pupils widened as she took in the sight of Miguel, clearly not expecting the little boy either. She let out a rumbling mewl spreading her paws and pressed her head against the little skeleton as he threw his arms around her muzzle. Miguel rubbed his face against her forehead before stepping back slightly and received a full body lick from Pepita. 

“Yuck!” he groaned shaking off the little saliva he could, the smile still on his face.

Pepita looked to Coco who approached then and leaned down with a sad look, whiskers twitching at the older woman.

“Everything is okay now Pepita, Miguel is coming home with us, and Dante too,” Coco said petting the upset feline.

“Oh that’s right! Dante!” Miguel said and whirled around looking for the Xolo dog.

He peered through the small crowds of people and saw the dog in the plaza fountain prancing around in the water. He was using his unusually long tongue to lap up the water sprouting out from the top, his wings flapping furiously. Standing at the edge of the pond the attendant, who had taken the skull guitar to hold on to, was watching the dog nervously unable to figure out a way to make him stop.

“Dante get out of the there!” Miguel shouted running towards them.

Coco watched as the boy ran towards the attendant and his dog. The attendant looked relieved to see Miguel finally come to collect his alebrije. Before Miguel could make it halfway though, a male skeleton leaving the Department as well crashed into him sending Miguel back onto his bottom.

“Oh disculpe Senor, I didn’t see you there,” Miguel said, Coco hurrying to his side to help her boy up.

The man turned and Coco drew back in alarm. His brown eyes were filled with anger. They seem to sink into his eye sockets and his jaw was fixed tightly. The markings were jagged and roughly etched across his face, zig-zags in dark red under his eyes, a bouquet of swirls in yellow and purple on his chin and in the center of his forehead. He wasn’t very tall maybe her Mama’s height, he wore a light blue button up, dark brown pants tattered at the knees, a pair of boots that were worn and falling apart and his thick black hair was smoothed back a few stray pieces sticking out around his face. He bared his teeth and clenched his fists pointing angrily at Miguel.

“Damn children need to watch where they’re going,” he snapped angrily.

Miguel flinched and Coco glared at the man as he flicked his hand in the air and stomped off grumbling under his breath, away from the Riveras.

“I - I didn’t mean too, it was an accident,” Miguel stuttered shaken by the encounter.

Coco shook her head and squeezed his arms comfortingly.

“No Mijo it wasn’t your fault, he ran into you... let’s get Dante si?” Coco said petting his head gently, and sending a weary glance as the rude skeleton before he disappeared in to the crowd.

Miguel nodded slowly allowing his great-grandmother to lead him towards the fountain. He barely heard the the attendant spewing thanks and seeming relieved that they had come to get Dante. He looked back at where the skeleton man had left towards, feeling a bit queasy but was pulled back to the situation at hand as Dante jumped from the water splashing them. Pepita, who had followed them, growled softly in annoyance at being soaked by her canine companion. Dante barked happily running around Coco and Miguel who laughed at his antics. Miguel caught him by his neck and steadied him smiling.

“Hey boy ready to go home? Excited to see Mama Imelda and Papa Hector again?” Miguel said.

Dante threw back his head and howled running to Pepita who hissed as he sprayed more water. Dante didn’t seem to notice the threat as he jumped, flapping his wings and landing on Pepita who grunted with a displeased look at the dog on her back.

Coco chuckled at the scene before turning back to her grandson who thanked the man kindly as he took back the skull guitar. 

“Nice guitar kid! You know that mariachi, Hector Rivera? He had one just like that when he was alive, that’s a pretty spot on replica,” the attendant smiled.

Coco stifled a laugh as Miguel grinned taking back the guitar and wiggled his brow bones at the guy.

“You think so?” He asked.

“Si! Be cool to get an autograph! Hey I know kid, we all down here know Hector pretty well, if you want we could ask if he’d sign it for you if you’d like?” He said.

Coco had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing as Miguel faked an excited face and hugged the skull guitar tightly.

“That’d be so awesome! Thanks Senor!” Miguel said.

“You got it muchacho, buenos noches,” he smirked and headed back inside.

Miguel turned to Coco with a huge grin and she couldn’t hold on to her laugh any longer and Miguel joined in.

“You’re terrible Mijo! When that poor man finds out who you are I can’t imagine! Oh ay dios mio, mi Miguelito you truly are like Papa,” Coco said.

“Come on! Let’s go! I really can’t wait to get Papa Hector in on this,” Miguel chuckled.

Coco shook her head as she took the guitar and Miguel climbed on to Pepita. She handed him back the instrument before climbing on herself. Settling back in her spot Miguel sat behind her holding the guitar and Dante sat behind Miguel. Miguel let out a small surprised woah as Pepita lifted back into the air. Coco glanced back at Miguel who looked down at the guitar and smiled stroking the front of it as it lay in his lap. She felt a little better now, not even a few hours here and Miguel seemed to be just the same as he was alive. She was glad that his death hadn’t effected him so badly, that it took away who he was. He was talking to Dante about the poor misled attendant and she smiled ahead of her. A few times Miguel pointed out things asking what they were and when they passed over one area he gasped, scooted up to sit beside and shook her shoulder.

“Mira! Mama Coco mira! That was the plaza I performed at for the first time! Papa Hector performed with me too! It was the best, I had so much fun! Maybe he’d want to do it again?” Miguel asked looking at her and pointing down to the plaza.

“I’m sure Papa would love too, mijo. You can ask him when we get home,” she said smiling over her shoulder at him.

He yawned again slumping against her and she wrapped an arm around him.

“Te quiera Mama Coco,” he said.

She kissed his head and rested hers on his.

“Te queiro Miguelito,” she said.

A few more minutes had passed, the rest of the way in silence as Miguel took everything in around him that he managed to miss the last time he was here. Coco looked over at him from time to time making sure his happy demeanor didn’t fade. It didn’t thankfully, but the boy seemed to just get more tired. Before he could yawn again he let out another surprised exclamation as Pepita began to descend, grabbing her fur in one hand and clutching the guitar in the other. Coco saw the zapateria come into view and looked over to Miguel as Pepita grew closer to the ground. She frowned then at his face which fell and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Que pasa Miguelito?” She asked concerned now.

“They’re not gonna be happy to see me... are they?” He asked.

“No, no, no Miguel. Why would you think that? Of course they’ll be happy to see you!” She said.

He looked away his shoulders slumping.

“They’ll all look at me sadly. I know they’ll always think the same thing,” he said.

She sighed and hugged him to her chest again rubbing his arm.

“They will be sad, si. I’m sad you are here mijo, it doesn’t mean they won’t want you here. You are famalia and you don’t know how much they’ve all missed you. Seeing you on Dia De Los Muertos has been difficult for them, especially Papa. No one would’ve wanted you to come to us so soon Miguel, but that doesn’t matter because you are here now and we are going to celebrate this reunion no matter what!” She said encouragingly.

“Gracias Mama Coco,” he said and smiled up at her.

Pepita landed and Coco squeezed her grandsons arms once more before letting him go and squeezing his hand.

“We’re home! I hope you’re hungry Mijo!” She said excitedly clapping.

“Si! Si! I hope Tia Rosita made some tamales!” He grinned.

Tamales.

Coco froze then and Miguel looked at her in confusion. 

“Mama Coco? Is everything alright?” Miguel asked.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and slid off of Pepita clumsily nearly losing a limb. Pepita looked at her in alarm and Miguel gasped.

“Mama Coco! Are you alright?!” He asked hopping off the cat and reaching out a hand to her shoulder.

“Si! I’m fine! Wait right here Miguel! I’ll be right back! I- it’s a surprise!” She said with a nervous smile and then rushed into the house.

Miguel stood there with his hand still out stretched blinking in surprise. He looked over then at Pepita. Pepita shrugged and the move caused Dante to fall off onto the ground tangled in his tongue.

“Qué dije?” Miguel mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tamales! I can imagine Elena as a little girl cooking with her Tia Rosita and learning how to make them.
> 
> A little explaintion on some points: when Marcella talks about the ‘matriarch’ she means Imelda of course, being she was the first one of the family (not counting Hector) to die and she’s definitely in charge, I feel like it’d be her responsibility to pick up family members and be there to prove that they are indeed related as sort of an official thing.
> 
> And for those who don’t know Spanish (cause I don’t; most of the Spanish is from translate if not some common knowledge and from watching the movie) disculpe is “excuse me” and qué dije is “what did I say?”, please forgive me if they’re way off cause I know how translate can be! Pointers for next time! Comments please are always helpful and keep me going!


	6. Chapter 5 Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I’m sorry! I’m a day late but I felt a bit of writers block and watched Coco for the tenth time to help. I’m not sure how I feel about how this chapter came out. I don’t think I’d be able to capture truly how Hector and everyone would feel about Miguel’s death. I mean, that’s his little chamaco. I hope I did okay though!

Her mama would be very displeased with the string of colorful language running through Coco’s mind right now. Her Papa would hold his ears, out of disbelief that his daughter COULD think in the way she was (she was his baby girl after all, despite all these years) but her Mama... Coco could feel the imprint of the heel of Imelda Rivera’s boot all around her skull. It didn’t matter right now, even though she didn’t share her thoughts with the rest of them as she raced into the home.

“Welcome... home?” They all started to shout but then stopped when all they saw was Coco.

“Mija? Where’s Elena?” Oscar asked, his brother nodding in agreement.

Oh how this was bad, very, very bad. 

“Callate!” She hissed hurriedly, waving her hands in front of her.

“Socorro Rivera you do not speak to your Tios like that!” Imelda snapped in disapproval, Hector cringing at his wife and daughter.

“Lo siento Mama, but not now, I have to- oh ay dios mio!” She gasped reaching for the decorations to start pulling them down.

“What are you doing hermanita?! It took forever to get those up!” Rosita gasped.

“Ay yai yai! This won’t do- these have to go- we can’t look like- dios why are there so many!” Coco said gathering all the decorations in her arms as best she could.

“Mi amor, ve mas despacio por favor! Que pasa?” Julio said standing in front of his wife with his hands up preventing her from taking down the last set of streamers.

She wanted to take off her shoe and threaten him to move but her arms were full. Her impatience grew thinking about Miguel outside and trying to remove the decorations that had been for Elena. She wasn’t sure how Miguel would react to a party thrown to celebrate his death, no matter how fine he was with it. She looked down at the streamers and then her husband, before she shoved them into his arms.

“Ay!” He shouted stumbling back and Coco jumped up collecting the last streamer and putting it with the rest of them.

“Vamanos Julio! Put them away!” She demanded shoving her husband up the stairs.

“Coco why are you so aflidi-?” Hector began to ask walking to his frantic daughter with hands outstretched.

“Help him Papa! Rapido! Rapido!” She shouted now running around her tall father and shoving him after her husband.

“O-okay! Okay! Anything for you Princessa!” He stuttered frantically with his arms up and followed his son-in-law.

“Coco what is going on?” Imelda demanded crossing her arms and stomping her boot into the ground.

Coco turned to the rest of her family who looked at her concerned, and then to her Mama frightened as she tapped her arm on her bicep. She didn’t want to make her Mama upset but she couldn’t help her actions. She had promised Miguel they’d celebrate, but not like- this. She was sure he’d be fine with a warm meal and time with his famalia but a fiesta was not something she’d think the boy would expect, or even want. And when he found out they had been expecting Elena instead, oh dios she didn’t want him to feel misplaced because the decorations had been for her and not him.

“Disculpe Mama I - it’s just - it not what you think - no se como decir esto,” she said ringing her hands.

“Just spit it out then Mija,” her mother sighed frustratingly, throwing up her crossed arms.

Coco opened her mouth to find the words to explain what was going on, but her husband and father looked down the stairs then nervously, barely poking their heads out of the corner.

“Can- can we come down now quierda?” Julio asked.

“S-si,” Coco sighed the high from needing to make sure things were okay for Miguel’s arrival and the emotions from tonite leaving her, and now she felt exhausted as her shoulders fell.

“What has gotten you so wired up Mama? Where is Elena?” Victoria asked worriedly about her mother who physically seemed to deflate in front of them.

“Elena - Elena is not here,” Coco mumbled covering her face with her hands and shaking her head.

———————————————————

“Coco,” Hector gasped softly falling to his knees beside his daughter to hug her gently from the side.

“If it isn’t Elena who is it then Coco?” Imelda asked the anger leaving her replaced by nervous interest.

Coco moved her hands from her face and Hector let her go as she gave him a sad smile and walked past the family. Hector watched her go to the door and stand there, she looked back at them once with a sad look before opening her arms to outside.

“Mijo come inside,” she called.

“Mijo?” Rosita asked and they all looked about themselves shrugging.

Hector stood up then as the family moved closer to the door, Imelda looked up at him and he shrugged down at her before a sharp gasp caught his attention. He turned his head and thought his neck snapped at how quick he did. But soon realized the sound came from the collective dropping jaws of all the other skeletons in the room, the gasp he was sure came from either Rosita or Victoria. Yet his own gasp soon followed that one as Imelda grabbed his arm, her grip so strong she was sure to dislocate the joint.

“No podria ser, no podria ser...” Imelda began to chant barely over a whisper shaking her head.

Hector felt his foot move before his mouth. He walked closer with an uncertain look and his bones shaking. Coco held the little boy’s shoulders over the nostalgic red hoodie. He nervously held the neck of a white skull guitar and his eyes barely peeked out from behind it, as he stood shyly at the center of attention. 

“Welcome home Miguel,” Coco said softly squeezing his arms.

His eyes seemed to sweep over all of them before they landed on Hector and Imelda. Big, brown orbs grew wide, to the point they nearly consumed the sockets of his eyes as he looked at his great-great-grandparents standing there at each other’s side. No one had said anything besides Coco’s gentle welcome. The little skeleton, who looked like Hector’s boy, settled the guitar on the ground beside him before he stood up on wobbling legs, his arms slowly reaching out as his eyes began to shake with tears.

“Pa-Papa Hector”, he whispered.

That voice, that wonderful, sweet, handsome little voice that sung with a full heart and a soul made of guitar chords. A voice he had missed for months in a year. Waiting for one day simply was not filled with enough passing words to other family members or a few songs to completely relish in his voice. He took what he got with a grateful heart, but he was greedy and there was never enough time to soak up as much as he could of his great-great-grandson when he saw him on Dia De Los Muertos. But... 

This certainly had never been an answer for that longing. 

“Oh chamaco! Oh Miguel!” Hector gasped and Imelda released her death grip on his arm so he wouldn’t lose it as he rushed forward and seized his grandson off the ground in a bone crushing hug (not literally of course).

“Papa Hector!” Miguel wailed as fresh, painful, raw, emotions washed over him again. 

He sobbed letting out small cries as he gripped his grandfathers vest, arms around his neck. Hector’s forehead was pressed to his collarbone, squeezing his eyes shut but not stopping the tears that leaked through. 

Distantly he heard his wife asking, “How could this have happened?”

Hector couldn’t manage a word as he rocked the little boy in his arms gently. Miguel’s hysterics finally calming down to sharp hiccups and muffled whimpers as his face pressed to the side of Hector’s head. He had felt his hat fallen to the ground but didn’t care to pick it. His core had been so shaken, he barely registered that Miguel was now murmuring for his Mama Imelda.

“Oh mijo! My quierdo! My sweet, sweet grandson,” Imelda sobbed now wrapping her arm around her husbands ribs and another over his arms still clutching Miguel tightly. Miguel slipped one arm around her neck, his chin resting on the edge of their shoulders squeezing them so hard there heads pressed against his. 

“Miguel this can’t be real... it can’t be, you can’t be d-,” Hector began but then his eyes snapped open and stared straight ahead at nothing, unable to say it as the realization hit full force. 

His shaking body gave out and he fell to his bony knees, dragging his wife along with him. A hand creeped up to Miguel’s head clutching onto the wig that looked and felt exactly like his hair but wasn’t. Instead of the familiarness of Miguel’s flesh and muscle, there was nothing warm that pressed against his bare ribcage this time. He wasn’t warm or cold, he was simply, there, a skeleton... dead. The pain that ripped through Hector was worse than the poison which had killed him. 

Nothing compared to this. 

Being ripped away from Imelda and Coco had tore him to pieces yet the hope remained that one day he could set things right. There was no second chance for his grandson. Death had stolen away a lifetime of possibilities and from the arms of living familia that still needed him. 

“What could’ve happened to our little Miguelito!?” Rosita cried wiping her eyes which cried profusely. 

Oscar and Felipe kneeled beside Imelda, holding their hats to their chests and Victoria covered her face with her hands like Coco had before. Julio stood next to Coco, an arm around her shoulders resting his fallen head against hers and holding his hat against his front. The room was solemn as Hector kneeled there still embracing his grandson who didn’t dare let go. All that was left of the boy’s emotional breakdown was the silent trek of tears down his cheekbones. Hector wanted to joke, to see his little chamaco laugh but his natural ability to brighten a room was suddenly lost to him now. He remembered this empty feeling when he first realized he was dead, and wouldn’t see his family for a long time, possibly never again. His hold tightened again on Miguel and he whispered gently against his head.

“It’s okay chamaco, it’s okay,” he soothed petting his hair.

Was it? 

Was this really okay? 

Was his dead, fourteen year old great-great-grandson going to be alright? 

Dios mio, he hoped so. 

“I- I missed you Papa Hector... I missed you all so much, I’m happy to see you all again,” Miguel finally spoke in the faintest, smallest version of his voice that Hector had heard.

The weakness of his voice jolted every fear and paternal instinct he possessed. When Coco would have a nightmare when she was a little girl, she’d speak in the same way and it made him feel terrible that she had been that frightened. It was no different now. He opened his mouth to speak and with a hoarse voice mumbled comfortingly back to Miguel.

“I missed you too, you haven’t the faintest idea Miguel, no idea at all,” Hector mumbled closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

“We all did mijo,” Imelda added softly rubbing Miguel’s spine.

He finally pulled back enough, or rather Hector loosened his grip just enough, so he could look up at him and smile. Hector’s eyes widened again and Miguel placed his hands on his own round skull.

“Mama Coco said we all have the same markings,” Miguel smiled sadly.

Hector watched as he lifted his small hands and brushed them against Hector’s more defined cheekbones tracing the swirls he, Coco and - now Miguel all shared. Hector’s eyes remained glossy but he tried a shaky smile for him as Miguel grinned then.

“We certainly do,” he said.

“Oh mijo,” Imelda said.

Miguel looked to her then and Hector let him go finally, as he threw himself into her lap and gave her, her own hug. She held him tightly before her brothers joined in wrapping their arms around her and Miguel. Miguel smiled, despite their sad frowns, as he nuzzled his face into her chest like he had his Mama Coco earlier. Hector reached out, not yet ready to completely let the boy go from him and ran his fingers through his hair again. Miguel hummed in contentment looking up at Imelda with big eyes and she took his face pressing several kisses all over. Miguel chuckled a bit and the twins smiled at him behind their sister who held his chin and sorted out his tousled hair. He was passed on to Rosita then, as she wrapped him in a bear hug, dangling him off the ground like she had when he was cursed two years ago, except she littered more kisses about his head messing up his hair again much to Imelda’s displeasure. Victoria kneeled to hug him, he stood at her height when she was on his knees, and she sighed letting go of something Hector wasn’t sure of but nonetheless could see the sadness and love in her eyes despite everything. Then finally he came back to Coco again, who stood with Julio’s arm still around her shoulder. The great-grandfather sniffed once before pulling his great-grandson in a hug, twisting his body to sway Miguel around. Miguel smirked while he looked to Coco, Julio released him and she patted his cheek.

“See Miguelito, everyone’s missed you, and no ones disappointed to see you,” she reassured.

“Disappointed?! Chamaco, how could you think that?!” Hector demanded grabbing his grandson again and turned him to face the elder skeleton.

Miguel looked down at his feet shamefully and shrugged.

“I died Papa Hector... too soon, I feel like you’d all look at me pitifully and wish - wish I weren’t here,” Miguel said his voice threatening to break again.

Hector winced when he said ‘died’, still unable to place his chamaco in the same sentence as that word. But he put on a serious face and held Miguel’s shoulders looking at him straight on.

“Seeing you Miguel, would never be a disappointing moment. Ever since you reunited all of us together and made sure that I’ve lived on, there’s only been one thing missing from my afterlife and that’s been the ability to see you chamaco! You have been my best friend since that night even before I knew we were related. You’ve helped not only your famalia open their eyes but me as well. Te queiro mijo. I - I wish it didn’t have to be like this now that we can finally see each other again, but I wouldn’t trade a moment with you for the world Miguel,” Hector said giving his grandson a warm smile and an encouraging tap up on his chin. 

Miguel smiled and threw his arms around Hector again and buried his face deep into his collar bone.

“Te amo Papa Hector,” Miguel said softly.

Everyone smiled now at them, Hector releasing him but keeping a hand on his shoulder, before Victoria stepped forward. With a hesitancy that Hector had never seen before in his stoic granddaughter, she looked down at Miguel and her face screwed up in an uncomfortable expression before she spoke. 

“Miguel ho- how did-?” She started to ask.

“Victoria, no,” Coco said firmly then.

They all looked to Coco then as she fixed her daughter with a stern look but it was too late. Hector felt Miguel begin to shake under his hand, as he placed his small hands to his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I can’t remember h-how it happened, like I told Mama Coco all I remember is something loud and Dante barking and that was it. I’m sorry everyone,” he mumbled eyes darting around the room then.

“No Miguel, it’s nothing to be sorry for, you remember what Senorita Marcella said, it’s to help ease the transition,” Coco reassured him.

“She’s right mijo, you don’t have to apologize for something like that,” Hector said shaking his head and squeezing Miguel’s shoulder.

Miguel didn’t seem to feel comforted though as he continued to shake and shook his head quickly.

“B-but she also told Mama Coco that... that I couldn’t remember because my death could’ve been violent,” Miguel began to choke on his own voice as he looked desperately at Hector.

Fear seized Hector again as he pulled Miguel into another tight hug, rubbing the boy’s arm as he clutched the front of his vest.

“What a stupid thing to say in front of a child!” Imelda snapped then, standing up with her fists clenched at her sides.

“Imelda—,” Hector said softly.

“No! There was no need to leave our grandson with worries such as that if they aren’t true! I have half a mind to go down there and-,” Imelda began to rant.

A tug on her purple skirt stopped her and she looked down to Miguel who pulled from Hector and clutched her dress.

“Please don’t leave Mama Imelda, por favor,” Miguel asked.

The anger disappeared and she was replaced with the turmoil within her yet again as she looked down at her poor boy’s eyes. Hector shook his head at her from behind Miguel telling her not to go and she leaned down kissing her grandson’s forehead.

“I won’t go anywhere Miguel, I promise,” she comforted.

The boy relaxed then as he looked about the room with a happy smile. Hector felt a small bit of joy at seeing him smile like that at his family. Miguel turned to Rosita then and his lips twitched at the ghost of an excited grin.

“Tia Rosita, Mama Coco said we could eat something when we got back, I was hoping-,” he mumbled nervously.

He didn’t need to finish as his Tia Rosita squealed and bounced on her heel bones, clapping her hands. 

“Of course mi Migueli-it-it-ito!” Rosita said grabbing the boy’s hand and pulling him towards the kitchen. 

Hector stood then when Miguel was out of sight and wrapped an comforting arm around Imelda. The comfort he was sure was more for him then his wife. She seemed to sense this and hugged his ribs tightly.

“Lo siento for my outburst earlier Mama,” Coco said.

They looked at their daughter who sighed and clasped her hands in front of her.

“I just didn’t think Miguel would like to have seen a party for his death. Especially one meant for another,” she mumbled quietly at the end.

Imelda gasped when she put the pieces together as to why Coco had pulled down all the decorations earlier. Hector reached down to pick up his hat and nodded in understanding at his daughter.

“It makes sense now Mija, good thing for your quick thinking,” Hector smirked.

“Si! Don’t worry about a thing Coco,” Oscar and Felipe said at once, both kissing their niece’s head as they passed her to head for the kitchen, where the scent of warm tamales wafted from.

“Let’s join Miguel for dinner si? As a family,” Julio said patting his wife’s hand.

She nodded with a warm smile and Julio led them into the kitchen. With the three of them left in the room, the grandparents looked over at their granddaughter who stood there holding her arms and looking at the ground. Imelda went to say something but Hector squeezed her shoulders and told her to head in for dinner and they’d be just a moment. She looked between Victoria and Hector before nodding, she kissed his cheek and headed after her daughter with a weary glance at Victoria. Now alone Hector moved to his granddaughter’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong Mija?” He asked.

“I - I can’t understand how this could happen,” she mumbled.

The ache hadn’t left his bones as he fought the urgent need to see Miguel even if the boy was simply in the other room with everyone now. But he couldn’t leave his granddaughter at the moment as Victoria was obviously distressed, but in a way no one else was and he thought he knew why.

“Miguel shouldn’t have come back to us this early Abuelo. It’s not right. It shouldn’t have been him—,” Victoria began to say quickly but cringed when she said the last thing.

That had confirmed it for him.

He smiled sadly as he walked behind her and hugged her shoulders. She looked away ashamed for what she had said but he shook his head.

“No one blames you for being sad at not being able to see Elena now, Victoria,” Hector said his voice tender.

She stepped away, shaking her head and ringing her hands nervously. It was foreign seeing her be so emotional, but he knew it was better that she let it all out now. 

“That isn’t just it though! I’m not upset that it was Miguel and not Elena; I would never be that selfish! Dios mio! He’s my great-nephew! I just-,” she started to defend feeling horrible that she could’ve planted that thought in her family’s mind.

Hector stepped towards her and held her arms again giving her a knowing look.

“Shh it’s okay quierda, we know you wanted to see Elena, I’m sure Coco and Julio did just as much as you. I also know that you aren’t angry that it wasn’t Elena and that it was — he is going to need us now more than ever Victoria, and I’m sure he misses his abuelita very much right now. You can help him with that, she was your sister and I’m sure Miguel will need that comfort from someone so close to Elena when the time comes,” Hector said.

She looked at him with wide eyes before taking a deep breath and nodding.

“You’re right. Elena will be with us someday but right now the most important thing is Miguel,” she said with a firm tone.

“Good! Now let’s go join everyone!” Hector grinned clapping and walking beside her, as she smiled up at him rolling her eyes.

He offered the way to Victoria first before entering into the room last and took in the sight of a now fuller dinner table. Everyone had taken their original seats and seated between his own chair and Rosita was Miguel. He looked up from his rapidly filling plate, as Rosita shoved all the food she could onto it. He smiled brightly at Hector and the mariachi’s ribs felt tight as he forced a smile back through his grief and walked over to his own seat. Tamales were stacked onto Miguel’s plate and Hector managed a small chuckle as he sat between his wife and grandson. Miguel leaned into him then holding up a hand to hide his mouth as he spoke.

“So you gonna help me eat all of this?” He asked.

Hector grinned not feeling quite the energy to laugh and ruffled the boy’s head playfully. Miguel laughed and swatted at his hand, bones clicking slightly against each other.

“You’re on your own for that one chamaco! Don’t ask your Mama Imelda for help though,” Hector said winking at Miguel, Imelda’s head twisted quickly in her husband’s direction at the quiet mention of her name.

“Excuse me?! What exactly ARE you telling that boy?!” Imelda snapped.

“Rosita! I think your Mama Imelda would like some more tamales!” Hector said loudly as he ignored his wife purposely.

“Que?!” Imelda gasped looking at her husband in disbelief and then back at Rosita, with a worried expression, as the woman dressed in bright pink grinned excitedly as she passed the plate to Hector.

And when everyone laughed, the room felt a bit brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment! Tell me what you though. Was it too short, too rushed, not heart wrenching enough? I might go back and change things or add things, but it’s also gonna be a process for them to all come to terms with his death so their thoughts and feelings on it don’t just end here. I’m also gonna try and put up another chapter today to make up for missing yesterday’s deadline. Please let me know what you think :) thank you.
> 
> Translations/explanations:
> 
> When Julio interupts Coco’s decoration destruction he says “my love, slow down please. What’s going on?” 
> 
> Hector was gonna ask Coco why she was ‘aflidigo’ which means ‘distressed’
> 
> ‘No se como decir esto’ is ‘I don’t know how to say this”
> 
> ‘No podria ser’ is ‘it couldn’t be’


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised I did it! Here’s a second chapter in the same day! No fluff this time unfortunately :(

When had he fallen asleep? And why did he have such an awful head ache? He groaned into the solid tile ground beneath him and furrowed his brow at the pain throbbing against his skull. He felt dizzy and light headed even though he barely had moved. Distantly, he thought he could hear voices that sounded close to him but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He wanted to tell them to be quiet, callate, but he couldn’t find the strength to speak. Instead he focused what energy he had to slide his hand against the ground to his face, so he could pressed it to his forehead. He twitched at the strange feeling of his hand feeling rough and scraping gently against his skin, as he held it there. It didn’t feel smooth and though he knew his hands were calloused from years of working, he hadn’t ever felt they were that rough. Steadily the voices he heard began to grow clearer to the point he was sure they were right next to him and his suspicion was confirmed when the next person spoke.

“Senor? Are you alright?”A woman’s voice asked.

He wanted to snap at her for asking such a stupid question. Of course he wasn’t and he was pretty sure he didn’t look alright even if he couldn’t tell her that. There was more mumbling then, purposely trying not to be heard this time, before he felt a large hand press lightly on his spine. He shivered at the strange contact, the hand retreating slightly, before it moved to his shoulder and gently shook him. 

“St-op,” he barely grumbled out.

“Oh, lo siento Senor we weren’t sure if you had fallen unconscious again,” now a man with a deep voice asked.

Unconscious? Wasn’t he just sleeping? 

He grimaced as the sound of the woman returned, her high pitched voice grating his head ache. 

“Maybe we should take him to the doctor?” She said.

No! He couldn’t go to a doctor if he did they-!

“He doesn’t seem to have broken any bones, he just needs to wake up slowly, this happens sometimes. No te preocupes, you’ll see this now and again,” the man said to the woman.

“Oh,” she mumbled.

He felt relieved that the man had told her not to worry. He couldn’t afford to go to a doctor, not here anyhow. In a small village such as this one, he would be found immediately. 

“Pero Capitán mira, he seems to have a fracture here,” the woman said.

He felt a brief brush of what felt like a finger over a spot on his forehead and he hissed in pain. Damn woman! 

“I’m so sorry Senor!” The woman gasped her voice again adding to his headache.

“Why don’t you go get una enfermera? Once he’s up they can take a look at it,” he said.

Please get her out of here is all he could think.

“Si I’ll be back!” She said and he heard a set of heels clicking away quickly.

He was relieved the lady with the annoying voice was gone but the man who’s hand remained on his shoulder spoke again.

“Okay amigo, let’s try and get you up and on your feet si?” He said.

He wanted to protest, to tell him to leave him alone and he could get up on his own when he was ready. However, he still couldn’t find even the energy to do that, so he simply cringed and groaned in pain as the man squeezed his thin arm under his chest and started to lift him up. He was slightly intrigued how a man so seemingly skinny could easily pick him up but he didn’t think about it long as he felt a wave of dizziness hit him that threatened to knock him off his feet. Thankfully the man wrapped his arm around his shoulders and supported his full weight.

“Here let’s get a seat for you,” the man said and he felt him move forward. 

His legs felt unbalanced and shaky as if he hadn’t eaten for days and was suffering the consequences for it. The walk felt like an eternity before he was gently spun around and settled down onto a hard bench. It seemed to dig into his tailbone as he sat, adding to his discomfort and he let himself show his annoyance openly on his face since he couldn’t say it out loud. His arm left the man’s shoulders and he brought it up to his closed eyes to cover them again. Something didn’t feel right though as his hand pressed directly up against his face, the man with him seemed to sense this as he chuckled softly.

“You’ll get used to it not being there anymore amigo, trust me it’s weird for everyone,” he said.

He wanted to tell the man to stop calling him amigo, as he was most certainly not his friend but that joined the list of other things he couldn’t say just then. But what did he mean by ‘it’ not being there anymore? What was ‘it’? He felt frustrated now on top of annoyed that the man was seemingly speaking so vague and nonchalantly. He went to squeeze the bridge of his nose to ease his headache when he felt his fingers easily slip off the bridge. 

Uhh, where was the rest of his nose? 

“Uh-oh, you don’t- oh lo siento Senor. I think you should try and open your eyes... don’t freak out, everything’s going to be alright,” the man said then patting his shoulder.

He tried to swat the hand away but his weak limbs simply dropped against the bench he sat on with a disturbing clack. He froze then at the sound wondering what could have made it. It sounded like wood against - something hollow? He took the man’s words into consideration, yet still annoyingly puzzled by them. He grunted as he tried to pry open his heavy eyelids, a brief flash of light blinding him and he squeezed them shut again quickly. With his vision blurred it was too bright to make out anything in a brief glimpse. He tried again opening them a little wider before closing them shut again. He repeated the process agonizingly slow before finally his view cleared and he looked confused at the wall in front of him. It was all a warm, brown stone, well maintained and cleaned. In the center of a decorative arch way on the wall, there was a poster of a movie playing at some cinema he hadn’t heard of. Yet the strangest thing about it were the actors that were featured, they looked like dressed up skeletons. He furrowed his brow at the ridiculousness of it.

A movie for Dia De Los Muertos maybe? 

That’s was strange in itself but he wasn’t a movie maker or watched any movies so he frankly didn’t care. He glanced only briefly about, not to turn his head and worsen his head ache. He seemed to be in a train station of some sort, not like one he had ever seen. The trains looked like patched up, colorfully painted trolleys sitting unused and waiting. Kiosk windows were empty so he assumed that it was either a day the place was closed (which was ridiculous because transportation places such as this were never closed) or it was late and there were no more trains, or trolleys, going out for the day. He was surprised a small village such as the one he was in, he couldn’t quite recall the name of it, had such a large station like this. He had almost forgotten the man next to him, because he sat out of his peripheral vision, until he spoke again.

“There you go! Not so bad, right amigo?” He said.

That was it. He was going to tell him to shut up when he turned his head around, ignoring the head ache and froze. The man sitting next to him wasn’t a man at all but -

“Un esqueleto! Ay!” He shouted careening back on the bench as far from the monster as possible.

“Senor! Por favor! Relax, everything is going to be alright!” He repeated holding up his hands.

“Get away from me!” He shouted pointing at the man, forgotten was his headache as fear and adrenaline raced through trying to move- 

Dios. His hand was... bone.

He gasped sharply and looked down at his shaking hand. Unable to believe it he flexed his fingers and jumped in surprise when the bones copied his movement. 

“Wh-what!? Que pasa?!” He demanded looking around him frantically now. 

“Senor!” The man said again trying to call back his attention.

He didn’t listen. He felt nauseous as he took in everything around him now. The windows of the station were an array of colorful, stained glass shaped skulls. Past the glass even more expressive creatures of glowing neon and mixed matched features either flew by or crawled across the window. He looked to the doors and standing there dressed in pressed, blue uniforms were more skeletons who looked straight at him then. He gasped and ducked looking over the bench, eyes darting around him.

“Is everything alright Capitán?” A high pitched voice asked behind him then.

He yelled as he whirled around, pressing his back flat against the bench and looked right at the startled woman who was also a skeleton. He breathed heavily but it seemed like a wasted effort for some reason, he couldn’t catch his breath but he didn’t feel out of it either.

“Si Lucia, he’s just realized his predicament. Senor please clam down so we can explain,” the man said. 

He glanced between the two of them with a bewildered expression. He studied them a little more closely now. The skeleton woman named Lucia, with the annoying voice, was dressed in a similar blue uniform to the skeletons by the door. Instead of pants she wore a deep blue skirt though and her short, black hair beneath her hat, was a striking frame against her pure white, heart shaped skull. Beside him, the man she kept calling Capitán, wore the same uniform save for a dark blue jacket over the button down. He had a mustache and thick black eye brows over light brown eyes. He had a large chin despite his narrow head and he gave off an intimidating presence even as he tried to calm him down.

“W-what’s happened to me? Have I gone loco?” He asked.

“No Senor you aren’t loco,” he said with a small chuckle.

Are you? He thought.

He tried to relax back into a sitting position but kept his eyes looking back and forth between them. The man held out his hand then and politely introduced himself and the woman.

“I am Capitán Bautista, I’m in charge of the security here at the 247th Marigold Bridge station, and this is my new assistant, Lucia,” he said.

“Hola,” she said waving slightly.

He looked at the man’s hand and his own trembling one, before shaking it nervously.

“247th what?” He asked.

“Marigold Bridge Senor! See over there!” Lucia said excitedly pointing behind Bautista.

He scowled slightly at her annoying voice, flinching as she practically shrieked her excitement before looking around Bautista and to an array of customs lines. His eyes widened though as beyond that he could see a huge orange, glowing bridge that seemed to extend out into nothingness. 

“What is that?” He mumbled.

Thankfully Bautista answered sparring his head ache, one he was painfully aware of again. 

“The Marigold Bridge! It connects the Land of Living to the Land of the Dead,” he said.

Wait. What? 

“Disculpe hombre, what did you say? The Land of the D- Dead?” He asked.

Bautista smiled sympathetically and nodded.

“Si Senor, I’m sorry to say but you have died,” he said.

It took a few moments. He had to be loco he told himself, he just had to be. That or this was just some crazy nightmare he was having and he’d wake up. That had to be it. He closed his eyes and shook his head quickly, shuddering at the shambling sound it made as bones rattled against each other. When he opened his eyes though Bautista was looking him up and down with concern and Lucia held a hand to her mouth. He couldn’t believe it. There was no way. 

He started to laugh. Bautista and Lucia drew back from him as he laughed so hard he started tear up, his head pounded still not appreciating the jostling his howling created, but he didn’t care as he continued to holler.

“Um, Senor?” Bautista asked.

His laughter died down as he reached up to wipe the wetness formed at his eyes. He shook his head and looked at the skeleton before reaching out to poke him roughly.

“Nice joke, homb-,” he began.

But as he pressed his bone finger against the man’s chest he found it caved slightly inwards and not against a solid chest at all. He froze again looking at his finger which was, what he supposed, was halfway into a man. He looked at Bautista in the eye now, the man seemed annoyed his finger was where it was and then looked down at himself drawing back his hand and pulling his collar forward. The now loose light blue button up he wore pulled forward exceedingly so and he found himself looking down at a pair of perfectly bare, snow white row of ribs. 

“Ay dios mio,” he mumbled feeling lightheaded again.

“Ay! No need to pass out on us again Senor! Let’s head to my office and we can talk some more there in private. Lucia did you get that enfermera?” He asked.

“I couldn’t find them Capitán, lo siento,” she said.

“It’s okay, we’ll fix that later. Right this way eh...?” Bautista said motioning towards a glass office close to the customs lines but stopped when he waited for his name.

“Lorenzo... Estevez,” he said shakily looking down at his hands.

“Nice to meet you Senor Lorenzo, if you’ll follow me, por favor. Can you walk on your own?” Bautista asked.

“S-si and don’t call me that, just Enzo is fine,” he snapped as he shakily rose to his legs.

Lucia grimaced at his rude behavior and Bautista’s face hardened for a moment before he shook his head and started to lead.

“Lo siento, Senor Enzo,” he said his tone laced with an edge of hardness. 

Enzo didn’t say anything as he followed Bautista to the small glass office. Lucia closed the door behind them all and Bautista pulled out a seat for him. Lucia stood by the door at attention, Enzo took the seat silently and Bautista sat across from him in the chair across the large mahogany desk. The room was covered in papers and photos, file cabinets along the back shelf and a skull shaped mug sat on his desk next to an old computer with pens in it. 

“Un momento por favor,” he said as he booted up the computer.

Enzo slumped into the leather chair now looking around the room a bit closer. On the wall to his right used to be a poster but it had been ripped in half, a name had been cut off and illegible now. Nonetheless, Enzo could tell who it was from seeing many of the same posters back in the city he was from. Ernesto De La Cruz. That famous mariachi that happened to be from that small town Enzo had been in. Apparently some news spread that the guy turned out to be a big murderer, and another guy from the same town, who had been his friend, had apparently been the real writer of all his famous songs. Enzo remembered a few of them, hearing the tunes from time to time on the radio when he drove to different jobs. The catchy one everyone seemed to sing was featured on the poster, ‘Remember Me’ it was called. He remembered when they stopped playing it. There were other pictures on the opposite wall of random skeletons, they all stood in front of a white backdrop like a mug shot. All the skeletons in the photos looked ragged though, their bones weren’t white like the wall behind them, some had patches of duck tape somewhere on them and were dressed in ripped clothes. Some of the pictures had red x’s across them and he wondered briefly what that meant. However one picture stood out from the rest; the skeleton in the picture wore a straw hat, dressed in a blue jacket with one fraying sleeve, and a red neck tie. Instead of a miserable expression like the others he was grinning like a crazy man, and a shiny gold tooth replaced one of his canines. Beside the picture though a framed one sat, a picture of Bautista, with who appeared to be, the same skeleton but his appearance had changed... his yellow bones which had been held together by duct tape where white again and not pathetically wrapped, he wore a pristine sleeveless blue vest and a pair of clean brown trousers held up by suspenders, he kept the neck tie which had been washed and the old straw hat. He still had the goofy grin but he looked happier some how as he slung an arm around Bautista who was laughing in the photo, his other hand in a thumbs up. Somehow the sight of a dead man so happy made him irritated. What was so great about being dead? His train of thought was interrupted when Bautista cleared his throat and Enzo looked over at him with a scowl.

“Si?” He asked.

“We need to gather some information for official records and then we can contact your family at the Department of Family Reunions,” Bautista said.

“‘Department of Family Reunions’? What is that?” He snorted haughtily. 

This seemed to annoy the skeleton man further, as the bones in his hands scraped against the wood when he clenched them on the desk.

“It’s an office of good people who reunite loved ones with their deceased familia, your deceased famalia,” he ground out.

Enzo scoffed and crossed his arms looking away.

“No tengo ninguno de esos,” he mumbled.

Bautista’s eyes looked him up and down, a mixture of pity with the annoyance, before looking back at the computer and typing something.

“I see well, let’s start with how you died. Do you remember?” Bautista asked hands hovering over the keyboard.

Enzo narrowed his eyes at the skeleton across from him.

“I didn’t even know I was dead, how do you think I’d remember how I died, huh, hombre?” He asked waving his hand dramatically. 

Bautista rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair and fixed Enzo with a stony gaze. Lucia glanced nervously at Enzo who still continued to frustrate the Capitán as much as he could. 

“Listen Senor Estevez, I’m here and not the Department of Family Reunions because you’ve obviously died suddenly and unexpectedly. Usually, people die in old age or some sort of sickness and their alebrije helps them cross the bridge to ease their way in. I can understand that this is upsetting, but it doesn’t have to be difficult. Now, if you can’t remember that’s okay, some sudden deaths aren’t remembered right away to ease transition but if there is anything you can remember about it maybe we can piece what happened, together,” Bautista said.

There he went again. He didn’t appreciate this man acting as if he was his friend. Enzo went to respond when Lucia’s annoying voice interrupted what he was going to say.

“If you can Senor Estevez, you can leave quicker and won’t have to come back,” she stuttered afraid of one of his snappy come backs. 

Biting back his irritation, he sunk into his chair and took a frustrated breath closing his eyes. He tried to recall exactly what he did remember.

“I know I was driving, the sun was going down and I was ru- I was going fast,” he said stopping himself before he could say another thing.

“Okay, continue,” Bautista’s voice cut in.

“I was in a small village... Santa something,” he grumbled at the end.

“Santa Cecelia?” Bautista asked.

Yeah that sounded right.

“S-si,” he said.

“What happened next?” Bautista asked.

“I’m not sure, I think.... I remember where I was driving was really crowded and I - I just remembered a - kid, two of them maybe. There was a huge crowd so I can’t be sure,” Enzo said opening his eyes and staring at his lap.

“And?” Bautista asked.

“I slammed on the breaks... I wasn’t wearing a seat belt and I just remember waking up here with this headache and you two standing over me,” he growled clenching his fists in his lap.

“So it seems like a car accident. Do you remember anything else about the kids?” Bautista asked.

“No! I just remember seeing a glimpse of white out of the corner of my eye! It distracted me. A-and besides why does it matter!? I’m the one who’s dead here, hombre! Who cares about the ninos estupidos!” Enzo shouted standing up now.

“It was just a question Senor, if you sit back down we can finish-,” Bautista began again. 

“I’m done with this crap! Can I leave now and get on with this afterlife?” Enzo demanded huffing in anger.

“There are still a lot of things we still need to go over Senor. Also to explain things, like Dia De Los Muertos, it an opportunity where you can cross over the bridge to the Land of the Living and-,” Bautista began to say.

Enzo turned his back and waved his hands in the air. 

“No me importa, adios Capitán,” he said and pushed passed Lucia, leaving quickly out the door and slammed it.

Lucia looked to Bautista who scowled at the door after Enzo.

“Are there many cases like that Capitán?” She asked.

Bautista sighed and nodded his head sadly.

Enzo angrily left the office and started walking through the station towards the exit. How could this have happened? He was so close, so close to finally not having a care in the world and some - kids or something ruined that. And all these skeletons seemed to only care about the LIVING. If this was the Land of the Dead, why were they not concerned about the actual dead? He let out a frustrated ‘ay’ as he pushed open the doors in front of him, not waiting for the security who were too slow. He needed to get away from this damn place. He didn’t even acknowledge the man at the desk wish him a ‘buenos noches’. Did the dead even need to sleep? Maybe he should’ve asked a couple questions before he left but he was too absorbed in what was going on to talk to those people any longer. He trudged down the steps now, watching his feet as he went. He was to angry over the fact that as soon as he had gotten his chance he had lost it, just like that! He could feel himself shake with anger and only looked up once when he heard barking. In the fountain in front of the building a dog, or what he thought was dog, splashed around in the water. He rolled his eyes and looked to the attendant standing there holding a white guitar in his hands. Enzo paused for a moment looking at the guitar, before dismissing the scene and jogged down the last three steps, moving towards a street that led anywhere than this god forsaken station. 

He didn’t see him or hear him until it was too late and he felt something run into him. He halted in spot and expected to be thrown to the ground himself but luckily he merely stumbled.

“Oh disculpe senor, I didn’t see you there,” the small voice said immediately.

He inwardly groaned recognizing that as the voice of a child. Why did children simply keep ruining his day today? He turned his head to send the offending boy a deep glare. An elder skeletal woman, with braided white hair, rushed to the smaller skeleton’s side and held his shoulders. She must’ve realized that he was in no joking or forgiving manner as she leaned back away from him and pulled the boy closer. Enzo glared down at the kid and was instantly reminded about everything that had happened all at once and grit his teeth, clenching his fists.

“Damn children need to watch where they’re going,” he growled and walked away from them. 

He felt their eyes on his back for a moment before disappearing into the crowd of people. When he was out of view he paused then and furrowed his brow. That guitar... something about it had caught his attention more than its striking originality. 

He shook his head of the meaningless thoughts and held his skull (that was weird to think about) where there was a small fracture. It must’ve been what killed him he thought as he continued walking through the crowd, people moving to avoid him as he didn’t spare them the luxury of moving himself. He knocked into a few people who mumbled about his lack of manners as he passed. What’d matter to him if he rammed into a few people?

He had lost everything that moment his head smashed to the dash board of that stolen truck. Or rather some annoying brat had taken it all away. 

His hands clenched so tight his bones popped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. 
> 
> Comments please! :)
> 
> Translations/explanations:
> 
> ‘No te preocupes’ is ‘don’t worry’
> 
> ‘No tengo ninguno de esos’ is ‘I don’t have any of those’
> 
> ‘No me importa’ is ‘I don’t care’


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late update! A lot happening this week and I was so busy, plus I went back so many times to do this chapter over and over to get it how I wanted! I promise to have the next one up within the next day or two, I won’t take as long again though promise!

“When she slipped him one under the table, I knew she had started warming up to him! But then he jumped up on to the table and started licking up all the arroz de pollo and the shoe came off,” Miguel finished the story.

Everyone laughed listening to their new famalia member tell them all about what they had missed. Apparently their Miguelito had saved up a chock full of stories in only a span of two years. They had gathered about the living room stuffed of tamales, especially Imelda, and had instantly ganged up on Miguel. The undertone of the room was still one of a heavy sadness though despite the jokes and smiles. They would all laugh at something he said and then maybe the slight down quirk of his lips or his eyes straying slightly out focus would set them back into the reality of it all. 

Hector had come to a certain understanding being the youngest of the family, having died at 21. Yet when he looked now to his great-great-grandson, who was telling Oscar and Felipe about the latest technology in the Land of Living, he found himself pathetically wishing that Miguel had lived to his age at least. He cringed at the thought at first but quickly hid it behind a chuckle when the twins laughed. Miguel yawned for the fifth hundred time that night but still told Imelda he wasn’t tired when she asked if he wanted to go to bed.

“You were yawning before we left the Department, Miguel,” Coco said petting his head from the wooden chair she sat on next to the couch. 

Hector was seated right next to Miguel an arm around his shoulders. He hadn’t questioned his extreme desperation to have him so close, but something told him it was because he had already lost one child once and was not about to lose another. Not that he could now, but still it comforted him. They heard a small crash, interrupting Miguel telling Coco he didn’t want to go to sleep yet. Looking towards the door they saw Dante crumpled upside down next to the wall. It seemed the dog had crashed on his way in from outside. Miguel chuckled and Hector rolled his eyes.

“I’m surprised this loco Xolo didn’t guide you straight off the bridge,” Imelda said nudging Dante’s twitching form with the tip of her boot.

Everyone in the room laughed but Miguel looked down and curled his fingers against his lap. Victoria noticed his attitude change first, not joining in on laughing. She frowned and placed a hand on her father’s shoulder, who stopped and looked at her, then in the direction she was looking too. The man frowned at his great-grandson and leaned towards him.

“Mijo whats wrong?” Julio asked.

Hector stopped laughing at the mention of something wrong and looked straight down at Miguel. The boy was starting to pull at small frayed thread on his red hoodie.

“He guided me through the house, let me say goodbye,” Miguel mumbled.

The laughter stopped immediately and all heads turned back to Miguel as he told another story... a sad one now.

“I thought - I thought I was having a nightmare. I was home and trying to keep Dante out of trouble, but nobody was there. It was really dark and I didn’t feel like I b-belonged there anymore. I suppose I don’t so it made sense later on, but when I saw that Socorro wasn’t in her crib I looked for anyone. I was so afraid something had happened to mi hermanita. She doesn’t cry often and she’s so trusting, I thought someone had taken her and no one had noticed. But no one was there... and then in my room there were all these beautiful candles, like- like my own ofrenda. It felt nice but now that I think about it, it was definitely creepy. I left then, I left the house because I could see Dante as an alebrije then... I said good night and I- I left,” Miguel mumbled his voice cracking towards the end. 

“It’s okay chamaco, you don’t have to tell us any more if you don’t want too,” Hector said comfortingly. 

But Miguel continued as if he hadn’t heard his grandfather. He described how lonely he felt and how scared he was. 

“Then Dante led me to the ofrenda room and that’s where I found Papa Hector’s guitar, but I don’t really know how it got there because I had it with me earlier, and the strap was broken. I’m sorry Papa Hector,” Miguel said.

“Hey! Do not apologize. It’s a guitar, there are thousands upon thousands of guitars out there. But there is only one of you Miguel and you are far more important than just another guitar,” Hector said, keeping his arm around his shoulder he pulled Miguel closer against him and patted his chest.

Miguel had instantly wanted to protest. It wasn’t just any guitar. It was his guitar. It was way more special than a random cut out copy guitar. He had sung to Mama Coco and Mama Imelda on that guitar, traveled with it... died with it and even though Ernesto had stolen it, it had returned to Santa Cecelia so that meant at least a small part of him had returned home like he promised he would. Miguel didn’t want him to shake off such a memory filled object. It had life to it even if it had resembled a skeleton from its creation. He knew though any argument would be in vain so he simply nodded and gave a small smile.

“Gracias Papa Hector,” he said.

“Besides Mijo, Abuelo has a spirit copy of the guitar so that means there are two of them,” Victoria said.

Hector smiled gratefully at his granddaughter and then everyone turned to Imelda as gently cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry Miguel, I shouldn’t have joked like that... you’re a very good boy Dante,” Imelda said to her grandson and then leaned down in her chair to pet the Xolo dog.

Beyond elated, Dante sprung up and instantly was on Imelda like a crazy man, licking her face incessantly. She shouted out in annoyance pushing the dog off of her. The laughter returned then, everyone on the verge of tears at the proper and strict Imelda wiping slobber off her bones and dress.

“L-lo siento Ma-ma Imelda,” Miguel choked out between his laughing fit beside him, her husband biting down hard trying not to be too amused but the tears in the corner of his eyes betrayed him.

“Ack! I’m going to clean this off! And then it is time for bed! There will be plenty of time more stories later on,” Imelda said.

Hector flinched and so did the others besides Miguel who smiled sadly, Imelda turned around and shook her head.

“Ay dios mio I -,” she started to say.

“It’s okay Mama, it’s okay,” Miguel said.

She walked over to him then bending down and holding his cheeks as she pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead.

“You are so brave mijo,” she said caressing his hair.

“I got it from the best Mama Imelda,” Miguel said with a grin.

Hector beamed at Miguel and then his wife who looked genuinely flattered at her grandson’s compliment. Her eyes flicked to him for a moment sensing him looking at her and she narrowed her eyes.

“You will sleep on the couch tonite,” she said.

“Que?! Imelda what did I do?!” Hector demanded frantically using his free hand to dramatically wave it in the air.

“I don’t need to explain to you!” She huffed crossing her arms and turned away up the stairs.

“Ay-yai-yai!” Hector groaned his whole body slumping down with an unamused look.

Miguel chuckled though and patted Hector’s hand on his shoulder.

“My Mama does the same thing to Papa when he doesn’t realize he did anything wrong,” Miguel said.

“But what did I- oh,” Hector began immediately as he looked around at everyone and then his eyes stopped at Rosita, who was humming to herself as she patched up one of Victoria’s blouses.

Maybe I shouldn’t have made Imelda eat all those tamales Hector thought with a nervous laugh and nod at Miguel.

The clock from upstairs, down the hall chimed hauntingly through the house signaling midnight and that is when Julio and Coco stood up.

“It’s time for bed for us since we have to open the shop early in the morning,” Julio said.

“Aw come on, you two could stay up a little longer,” Oscar said.

“I’m sure Imelda would be fine with opening up the shop a little later tomorrow,” Felipe said.

Coco looked to Julio who shrugged but then Miguel shook his head.

“No. No. I don’t want what happened to interrupt anything, especially Mama Imelda’s shop,” Miguel said hurriedly.

“Mijo you can’t think like that. Even if you were anybody else we would be taking the time to welcome you back. It’s a new experience and it can be scary, plus it’s sorta like being- born again, haha. The whole family takes time to welcome the new edition,” Coco said holding his cheek.

“Like when Abuelita closed the shop when they brought Socorro home,” Miguel said.

“Exactamente,” Coco said.

“Let’s see who goes into the shop next after Mama and Papa,” Victoria said standing and walking over to the small planner on the wall.

Imelda had placed it there when Rosita had died. The planner keeping track of now the five of them to run the fully equipped shop. When it had just been Imelda, she had started filling out only small amounts of personal orders when she could. However, her business expanded again with each family member who passed away. The roster had been placed at the bottom of the stairs so everyone could conveniently check who was to work what days before they went to bed, Victoria always knew her abuelita was efficient.

“Hm, it says Tia Rosita and- Abuelo has been crossed off,” Victoria said.

“Que? Why would I be crossed off? I thought she wanted me to clean the work benches tomorrow,” Hector questioned.

Everyone shrugged but Miguel gasped in delight.

“Wait does that mean if you’re off we can hang out together? You can show me around l-like last time?” Miguel asked grinning and looking at his Papa Hector with hopeful eyes.

Then it clicked in his head and he loved Imelda a thousand times more. On her way up she must have crossed off his name so he could spend the day with Miguel. The act reminded him just how caring Imelda was in her own little way. It seemed clear to Coco to as she smiled and kissed Miguel’s head.

“Buenos noches mijo if you need anything let us know,” Coco said.

“Si,” Julio said nodding with a smile.

“Gracias. Buenos noches Mama Coco, Papa Julio,” Miguel said.

The two retired upstairs to bed leaving the six of them downstairs to talk some more. Victoria listened closely as Miguel told another story about Elena and Franco looking after Socorro. Hector could see it in her eyes, she was accepting this situation the best she could but Miguel’s stories were certainly helping the fact that Elena wasn’t there to tell them herself. He glanced over at Miguel who now looked solely at Victoria as he spoke and noticed the boy’s soft gaze towards his great-aunt. He must’ve understood, even if he didn’t know they had been expecting Elena, it meant a lot to them to hear about specific family members. Hector liked the stories about Enrique and Socorro. He had never had a son and since Coco had two girls, his two great-grandsons were next on the list. Apparently, the oldest Berto and youngest Enrique were managers of the shop after Elena and Franco had handed over ownership to them. Miguel said Berto and Berto’s son, Miguel’s cousin, Abel were quiet followers when it came to the women of the family. Then there was Enrique, Miguel’s father, who married a beautiful woman named Luisa, who could sing and loved to learn how to play the violin with his cousin Rosa. Gloria was the middle child and quite the bossy one of her two brothers, and reminded Hector of Imelda and her brothers. He had also been delighted to learn from Imelda before he attended his first trip back, that he had four other great-great-grandchildren. Felipe and Oscar had two little twins to mimic themselves, Benny and Manny, who were also quite the troublemakers. Then Rosa and Abel who were their older siblings, who took most charge and were likely to take over the shop one day. He loved to see how much his family had grown and to hear about them especially now from Miguel. Secretly though, Miguel was his favorite, even if he had never met him and things didn’t go the way they did and Hector had watched him grow up on one day a year, he would still be his favorite. The boy was so much like him in every way and Hector always thought he’d see Miguel grow up and become the man he wished he himself could’ve been. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth at how wrong things had turned out. His arm tightened more around Miguel, who didn’t seem to notice.

“She had this book. I was changing the laundry for everyone that week and I found it underneath her pillow - don’t give me that look, I didn’t read it all! I did peek though. It was like a diary but all of entries were started the same “Dear Victoria”. I think abuelita was writing about what was going on so one day she could remember to tell you all about her life Tia, it’s really old so I bet she wrote in it everyday,” Miguel said.

Victoria placed a hand to her ribcage over where heart would be and then reached out to Miguel’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“Gracias Miguel, it means a lot to me that you shared that,” she said.

Miguel smiled back and then Victoria stood up and grabbed her book from beside her. She leaned down and kissed Miguel’s head and then Hector’s. As she was leaving to go upstairs, she passed the small desk next to her favorite bookcase and grabbed the pen that was sitting on a small stack of papers. Hector could see her excited expression as she hurried up to her room for bed but certainly wouldn’t be asleep anytime soon. Rosita placed Victoria’s blouse in the basket of sewing material beside her chair and migrated closer to them. Imelda came back down then, her hair in a braid over her shoulder and dressed in a white nightgown. She went into the kitchen before coming back out with some tea for everyone and sat in her spot between Felipe and Hector. 

“So what did I miss?” She said.

“I thought you said it was time for bed?” Hector smiled.

“One more story wouldn’t hurt. It’s late, but it’ll still be late in ten minutes,” she said.

Hector smiled lovingly at his wife as she took a sip of her tea and rested back in her chair for one more story.

“Oh! Oh! So when I got home from school one day-,” Miguel began.

Benny and Manny had somehow found a way to climb up on to the roof by themselves scaring Carmen and Berto half to death. Since nobody was brave enough to venture up there themselves and Berto, being the large man he was, certainly wouldn’t be able to keep his balance, Miguel had to get them. 

“Mama made me take everything down so they couldn’t get up there anymore and Abuelita said I was the reason they had the idea in the first place. Tia Carmen called me a superhero though and the twins started calling me superhéroe whenever they saw me so I thought it was pretty cool,” Miguel chuckled.

“And you called Miguel and I troublemakers,” Hector grinned at Imelda who rolled her eyes.

“It’s good that you look out for them Miguel, if they’re anything like we were I’m sure they get into all sorts of violencia,” Oscar laughed and Felipe joined in.

“Si! If it weren’t for me you two would’ve been dead too many years too early!” Imelda spoke giving the twins a pointed look.

Everyone laughed, the mention of dying early not effecting them like it would have. Rosita went to bed after yawning and wishing them all a goodnight. Hector caught her contagion and yawned himself sinking back into the comfy couch, propping his head up on his arm. Oscar and Miguel chatted about Benny’s love for blue being both their favorite color. Hector was faintly aware of Miguel nestling up closer against him, the arm around his shoulders sliding a bit more around his small torso. When the twins finally said goodnight it was well into two in the morning and even Imelda had yawned a few times since returning. Miguel had started a lazy chatter about random things to Hector, whose eyes were barely able to stay open but fought to hear every word his grandson had to say. Miguel himself, was now rubbing his eyes frequently that were turning red from his own exhaustion but still he continued on his last bit of battery. 

Imelda stood then slightly waking her husband and picked up the tray of empty tea cups. She cleaned them and set them out to dry before turning around to the small packet of papers left aside on the counter. Miguel’s proof of relation certificate. Two papers that if written on one would be transferred to the copy underneath for her to keep. She had signed so many before but this one seemed to be the hardest. She grabbed a pen and signed her name, and she kept the copy attached so they could verify before giving it back. She’d send Hector to drop it off when he took Miguel out tomorrow to spend time together, the chore would take no more than twenty of minutes of their day. She turned off the lights in the kitchen ready to tell her husband she’d left it for him, when she paused in the doorway leading back to the living room. She crossed her arms and smirked shaking her head softly. 

She hadn’t really meant it when she told Hector he was to sleep on the couch, she had been annoyed at the dog more so. However, there he was, limbs dangling about the couch and snoring away gently. His hat head tipped down slightly covering his face and his one hand brushed the ground beneath him, now pearly white bone standing out in bright contrast to the red carpet. What amused her was the other deep asleep skeleton curled into her husband’s side. Miguel’s skull rested gently in the crook of Hector’s neck against his shoulder, and one arm thrown over Hector’s ribs holding his vest tightly. Both of them breathing in time and with their mouthes barely open. She smiled warmly, took the blue knit blanket off of Rosita’s chair and gently draped it over them.

“Buenos noches y dulce suenos mi chicos,” she whispered.

She kissed Miguel’s head and smoothed back his hair pulling the blanket up closer to his chin. She took her husband’s hat off and placed it on the end table beside the couch, and she kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair back as well. His head moved to the side then, his chin brushing Miguel’s hair and let out a mumbling incoherent something Imelda couldn’t understand. She’d tell him in the morning before they left what she needed him to do and turned off the lights in the living room to let them sleep climbing the stairs to bed. When she got there, Dante was curled up at the foot of the bed on Hector’s side. She placed her hands on her hips and readied to tell the dog to get off but when Dante lifted his head to look at her, sensing her there, her argument dropped. She had been wrong to question the dog’s abilities earlier and decided to let his stay in her bed slide this once until Miguel had his own room and he could sleep with the little skeleton. She climbed into bed and faced where her husband would normally sleep, when her eyes stuck to a picture on the wall. 

She had kept spirit copies of all the photos left on the ofrenda each year, returning with 3 or 4 usually and more if it had been the year of a family member’s death. Nonetheless, the wall was practically made of photos and she enjoyed looking at them. Now though, her eyes focused in on a certain picture that tugged at her painfully. It was Miguel, maybe a few years before his curse with a one dimple smile and holding a box of Rivera made boots. It had been his first own pair when he had out grown small children’s shoes, that had been passed down from his father. Elena had placed the picture up for her specifically, as well as the same pictures of Abel and Rosa, knowing it was a small tradition to show her abuelita that another family member was growing into the family business. She treasured those little thoughtful gifts knowing Elena had been very much like Coco in that way. Seeing Miguel’s face hurt though, and she turned away from the picture squeezing her eyes shut. She had cried more then she’d have liked to today, but it didn’t stop the single tear that rolled down onto her pillow. She had spent decades trying to protect her family in every which way and as best she could. She had failed to protect Hector from being murdered by his best friend, she had failed to try and help Coco ease her pain by forgetting her father (which had been a mistake to begin with) and now...

She had failed to protect Miguel.

Even if she knew deep down it wasn’t in anyway her fault, she had always felt responsible for the pain of any family member. She couldn’t help feel responsible for this as well now. 

“I’m sorry Miguel, please forgive me,” she whispered and pulled up the blanket to her chin and drifted into a restless sleep.

———————————————————

Enzo realized soon that there was a few good things about being dead. One, for the most obvious, was you didn’t have to worry about dying and two, for the most important now, - since you couldn’t be killed, you could drink for as long as you wanted. You still got drunk. You still felt sick. You still passed out. Which most likely meant you still had hangovers. But you couldn’t die from alcohol poisoning and that’s all that mattered to him as he nursed his own bottle of tequila in the corner of the bar. 

It was a shady place right on the outskirts of a place called Shantytown, where there weren’t any perfect white skeletons with smiling faces and bright skull markings and that worked for him. Most of the skeletons in here looked like the photo’s from Bautista’s wall and carried the same somber expressions they did in their pictures. Their bones were yellowed and they looked less held together by some force and more by duct tape. No one bothered him and few were loud, save for some cackling idiots at the tables, but for the most part it was quiet. 

Dark. Quiet. And drunk. Fine by him.

Another positive was the alcohol was free. In fact most of the menu was free, save for a few speciality items. Apparently, the bartender had explained that all the food came from people’s left overs on Dia De Los Muertos, most of it donated by celebrities who had more than they could finish in a year. No complaining on that. He threw back the next shot and filled his glass with what was left of the bottle. He swirled it in front of him watching the liquor circle around hypnotically. 

He didn’t notice a man join him till it was too late to tell him to piss off. He was about to go ahead with the sentiment anyway before he took in his appearance. The man was dressed in worn clothes like the others, a button up with rips in his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of black trousers torn at the knees but he was surprised to find the skeleton had the same clean white bones he had, and not like the others. He had a strong build and squared jaw. He didn’t have colorful markings like him and the rest though, his were all silvery and placed about his face in a artistic like manner. His combed hair, which was graying at the sides seemed to wilt in front like the ghost of a past hairstyle and he had a mustache neatly trimmed on his upper lip. He looked familiar to Enzo but he couldn’t possibly be since he was dead and he wasn’t acquainted with anyone here yet.

He didn’t look like he belonged but something about him made Enzo shift uncomfortably in his seat and he wasn’t one to be nervous about anyone. Still he was drunk and the liquid courage was enough to at least remain irritated, even if he didn’t say aloud his initial comment.

“Can I help you?” He asked in quiet slurred voice, annoyance on the edge of it.

“Just getting a drink mi amigo,” the man said in a deep baritone.

Enzo’s hand clenched around his glass tightly. Why did everyone say that? What made them all think he was their friend? He wasn’t, and didn’t want to be anyone’s friend. He wanted to wallow in his anger, alone, and was about to yell it from a rooftop if it got everyone to stop calling him ‘amigo’. Rather than be kicked out of the nice quiet bar he decided to assert his aloneness to the stranger and ignore him for the rest of the night.

“Listen hombre, I don’t know who you think you are but I’m not yours or anyone’s amigo, got it? If you wanna chat there are some pendejos over there I’m sure could entertain you, but I’m not interested,” Enzo said looking at him and taking a throwing back his drink.

“Oh, I’m not looking to chat. And as for who I am... I’m going to be your best amigo, amigo,” he said holding out his hand to shake.

Enzo glowered at him and his outstretched hand. 

“Best amigo? Really? I don’t even know who you are,” Enzo said.

“The name is Ernesto De La Cruz, Lorenzo Estevez, it’s nice to make your acquaintance,” Ernesto grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t resist the Miguel and Hector moment, I’ve seen a lot of fanart (and all credit to the creator of the original idea) with it and I just think it’s a sweet fluffy must have and more Victoria and Imelda feelsy moments.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Violencia - mayhem
> 
> Dulce suenos - sweet dreams
> 
> Comments please and gracias! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for late update! A short chapter and now all the characters will have caught up with Miguel’s death! What’s next?

Ernesto leaned back in his hammock staring out onto the water through the open wall of his secluded shack. It was quiet, except for the push and pull of the endless body of water that disappeared out into nothingness. Beneath him three of his alebrije napped on top of each other and the fourth curled in his lap. He glared down at his last empty bottle of tequila laying on the ground next to him and dreaded heading out for another. Trips to the market were quite unpleasant as most shop-keepers refused to serve him and the ones that did - well, let’s say they didn’t get much business from the regular crowd. 

The chihuahua spirit guide in his lap yawned gently before nuzzling it’s nose closer into his pelvis. He reached out and scratched behind its ears with a heavy sigh. He wished rest had come that easily, but alas he was subject to the more torturous dreams. Hence the daily three bottles of tequila that lulled him into a dreamless unconsciousness. He hadn’t fallen asleep sober and slept well in months following his disastrous downfall. The few times he didn’t manage to drink a sufficient amount, his subconscious reminded him of better days, painfully ripped away by his ex-amigo and his sniveling grandson. His gaze hardened more at the hypnotic water and he kicked out his one loose leg. The tequila bottle went sailing right into the water with a loud splash and all four alebrije jumped up in alarm. He cursed to himself, dragging both free hands down his face and then back up smoothing his hair in the process. He had no mirror to check himself in and frankly he didn’t care, the less recognizable he was the better. More than once, anything and something was thrown at his head in a clear indication of ‘get lost’. He felt more like a stray dog than an amazing musician, even if others didn’t think so it didn’t mean his natural ability to sing suddenly vanished with his fame. 

So what if he couldn’t write songs? 

Hector had never been the one to captivate with performing, the man could sing and play the guitar but Ernesto had always been the good-looking face and the encompassing presence on stage. The only person Hector had intrigued enough was his bruja of a wife, and what had that gotten him, huh? A marriage and a child to really slam the doors and throw away the key. Hector should’ve thanked him for freeing him from that little prison, and showing him a sliver of what better things the world had to offer that being tied down would prevent. Yet he should’ve known from that goofy, nauseating and giddy expression Hector had worn on his wedding day that Ernesto had truly lost him to Imelda. He’d never admit aloud the slight jealously he felt when Hector had delved into marriage and eventually parenthood. Socorro had truly taken the spotlight then and Ernesto was merely the audience member with the backstage pass. He was Socorro’s godfather, that hadn’t changed, and he didn’t despise the little girl at all, in fact the few times he had babysat when the bruja’s brothers couldn’t he had enjoyed it. She looked like Hector almost unsettlingly so (save for the nose, gracias mio) and she had his attitude. After the - ahem, incident - he decided against seeing Imelda and Socorro again. Maybe, he thought, he’d confess a slightly guilty conscience or simply because he couldn’t be bothered, especially with his rising fame and all. Letters from Imelda were thrown straight into the fire in an attempt to forget the much smaller Rivera family back then. She persisted though and when a few letters from Socorro came, after her mother had ceased any attempts, he refused to be given any letters with her name on it. His resolve had hardened then, not feeling the terrible effect’s of reading his goddaughter’s letters, and he had simply come to the conclusion that what he did was absolutely right. Anything with the name Rivera or mention of such, never enticed guilt any longer and left him with a sense of accomplishment. He had done what he had to do, like he had told Miguel and the world, he had seized his moment. But it had only felt like a moment, especially since it had all collapsed when that niño had gotten cursed. He felt no guilt in throwing the living child off the side of the building. 

Really.

It made him angry when people accused him of being afraid of a child. He felt like his actions had been the best thing to do for everyone, the child hadn’t really posed any threat to him and sending Hector’s picture home when he was so badly forgotten as it was, wasn’t going to make any difference. He was a nuisance. No the act hadn’t been out of fear, he made certain the harassers knew that despite what he did, he wasn’t a coward. No, Miguel didn’t scare him, he made him furious. For a forgotten man’s name to live that long into a generation was ludicrous to Ernesto and it fueled his annoyance that he could not rid himself of Hector once and for all, even in death. Why should he be haunted!? Tortured by Hector’s loco family and that damn alebrije monster. Then topping it off by ruining his appearance in the living world, especially Santa Cecelia who had defaced his memorial and grave, and by one of Hector’s living relatives. Ernesto had genuinely been excited to think he had a great-great-grandson. Though he had never settled he had his times on the road, on nights when Hector would lock himself in their hotel room to write letters, make some songs or sing that lullaby, that amazing song, a song he wasted too many years keeping solely for his daughter. It wasn’t a fair. Ernesto clenched his fists, no matter what he did Hector always seemed to best him one way or another. 

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he scowled at it with a raised eyebrow. His shack was far removed from the others in Shantytown, even the good for nothing forgotten still had enough within them to hate a murderer even if they were all outcasts. No one bothered him because they didn’t want to and frankly he didn’t want them to either. He groaned as he got out of the hammock and trudged over to the door. He didn’t expect the visitors he found, he thought he was finished with the authorities. After that Dia De Los Muertos all punishments and sentencing had been dealt out; namely he wasn’t allowed within 300 feet of any of the Rivera family, deceased and living, and he wasn’t allowed to cross the bridge. That part didn’t bother him much, he hadn’t crossed in the past fifty or so years and it was more of a second measure taken to assure he didn’t go near Miguel again. 

“Can I help you officers?” Ernesto asked.

“We have a few things we’d like to discuss with you Senor De La Cruz. If you follow us down to the station we will be brief and you can return... home,” the taller male officer said with disdain at the end.

His shorter companion fidgeted nervously next to him and Ernesto assumed it was because he was face to face with a murderer, rather than a huge celebrity now. 

“What for?” Ernesto asked not really looking to venture out to a public space such as that.

“We can discuss that there, now if you will please Senor,” the man spoke again motioning out the door.

Ernesto scowled and looked back into his hut, his alebrije looked at him from his empty hammock and cocked their heads simultaneously to the side.

“Fine,” he sighed.

The walk to the Department was full of angry and shocked stares, as well as harsh whispers that seemed to travel faster down the road then he did. He tried to shield himself by standing between the two officers but it didn’t stop the gasps of recognition. He’d glance to the side and a mother and father would draw their children behind them with disgusted looks, or someone would shout out at them.

Murderer... shameful... stay away... not welcome... monster... coward.

He regretted coming out as he pulled up the flaps of his collar and lowered his face. The smaller officer glanced at him nervously and then straight ahead when Ernesto met his eyes once. The mariachi rolled his eyes and blew out hard in frustration. The large building came into view and Ernesto quickened his pace to get there as soon as he could. After he was finished with whatever they wanted him for, he could go purchase another bottle of tequila and then head back to the solace of his shack. 

The crowd in the street ahead of them that lead to the plaza broke apart prematurely then. Ernesto could see the annoyed faces on people and they mumbled things to themselves. None of them were looking at him so he supposed it wasn’t because of him. A man emerged then knocking into the shoulder of another with no awareness of him. Ernesto raised an eyebrow at the rude scene and followed the man with his eyes. His shoulders were hunched over, his eyes pointed at the street in front of him and his hands clenched in fists. He was curious to what had the man so angry enough to barrel through a crowd of people like that, but was interrupted by the feeling a huge gust of wind hitting him from above. He looked up then and a wave of fear raced down his spine as he spotted the large alebrije in the air. It was her alebrije. La Bruja with the shoe. What was that thing doing here? And why were these officers leading him straight to where it had come from? He was about to turn around and make a break for it when he watched it fly off away from the plaza. He felt a little more relieved but wondered now if it had dropped someone off. He could handle Hector or any of the others, but Imelda he refused to see. He tapped the shoulder of the taller officer and he fixed him with a hard stare.

“Que?” He asked.

“Is the Rivera family going to be present for this - whatever it is?” Ernesto asked.

“In case you need to be reminded Senor De La Cruz, you aren’t allowed within a mile of the Riveras, so no, they won’t be,” he snapped looking away from Ernesto and continuing on.

“Actually 300 feet,” Ernesto said haughtily.

The man glared at him over his shoulder before shaking his head and climbing the stairs to the Department. He opened the door and motioned for his partner and Ernesto to enter. When they did the man at the front desk, with a slightly disturbed expression, cleared his throat then and started to welcome them but then it faltered at the sight of Ernesto. His eyes looked to the taller officer then and gave a small smile.

“Buenos tardes Officer Rojas, Capitán Bautista is ready to see you,” he said.

“Gracias Antonio, vamanos De La Cruz,” Rojas said.

“I’m not un perro,” Ernesto mumbled as he followed him.

Rojas did not respond as he simply walked behind him towards a familiar office. Ernesto remembered this place twice; when he had first died and after his murder attempt. Capitán Bautista was once a big a fan, like so many others, but of course after the incident he had especially taken a dislike for Ernesto. He was led inside where a female officer he hadn’t seen before looked at him with wide eyes as she opened the door.

“Deja de mirarme Lucia,” Bautista said from his spot behind the desk.

She coughed lightly and averted her gaze closing the door.

“Take a seat Senor De La Cruz,” Bautista said.

Ernesto sat in the seat across from him as the Capitán sorted through papers on his desk. He took the moment to glance at the walls. His poster had been torn carelessly in half like he had simply walked by without a thought and committed the act. Ernesto frowned and then looked over to the other wall, skipping over the forgotten skeleton’s photos, and to a framed picture and he slouched down into his seat further. Fantastic, not only did Bautista hate him but he apparently was good friends with Hector. Bautista cleared his throat and Ernesto looked at him wearily.

“We’ll be quick about this Senor, I need you to sign this as an extra precaution, consider it a protection in itself for you as well,” Bautista said. 

“What is it?” Ernesto asked taking the paper.

“It’s another restraining order specifically written up as a result of a recent death in the Rivera family, you are to stay 500 feet away from Miguel Rivera for the rest of your remembered existence. If you are f-,” Bautista began the speech.

“W-wait! The niño is dead?” Ernesto asked his eyes growing wide.

Bautista face hardened and he clasped his hands in front of him, his eyes burning holes into Ernesto’s skull over his knuckles.

“Si,” he ground out.

Ernesto was floored. That little boy was dead? But how? He was a child, old age certainly not and, besides from being able to see his bones, he didn’t think the curse had lasting effects that could cause an illness. 

“How?” Ernesto asked.

“The boy does not remember, so at this time we do not know, now if you w-,” Bautista began.

But Ernesto did not listen. He was trying to process what had occurred and what this could mean. It had only been two years and a grudge such as the one the boy created couldn’t be forgotten so soon. How could have... revenge. He couldn’t kill the dead but he could make the boy suffer, how though? Gears turned and whirred in Ernesto’s head as he tightened his grip on the paper his mind far away from Bautista’s speech. No one noticed the twitch of a smile at Ernesto’s mouth.

“Senor De La Cruz!” Bautista snapped and slammed a fist against the table.

All the skeletons in the room flinched and a small whimper was heard, Ernesto supposed it was the nervous officer from before. 

“S-si,” Ernesto stuttered and grabbed a pen.

In large dramatic script he wrote his signature, which had once been his autograph, along the bottom line and Bautista snatched back the paper. 

“That’ll be all Senor De La Cruz, I hope to never see your face again. Lucia will show you out, adios,” he said.

He wasn’t shaken by the rude send off at all. He was still thinking about all his opportunities now that the little brat was dead. He could get his revenge... his revenge on Hector, that bruja and their grandson. He stood up from the chair with a straighter back and turned to the woman by the door who looked at him with big eyes still. He was slightly confused by the irregular response from her but followed her out. She closed the door and then turned to him with an anxious expression, wringing her hands.

“T-this way Senor,” she said.

He nodded following beside her with eyes out of focus. She was still fidgeting beside him and this drew him out of his concentration as he glanced over at her and she averted her gaze away.

“Are you alright Senorita?” Ernesto asked.

“I just- we’ll you see Senor, I’m.... was a big fan sir! It’s just such a shock and I know after all that’s happened that I shouldn’t be but-,” she began to ramble nervously waving her hands about.

A fan? This was new he hadn’t met someone who hadn’t been instantly disgusted by him in a while. He dropped his arms from their thinking pose and looked at her strangely.... maybe he could get some information out of her. 

“Are you new here Senorita-?” He started to ask, not remembering her name.

“Lucia! Lucia Hernandez! And yes Senor De La Cruz, I joined the Department just three days ago, Capitán Bautista is a distant relative so-,” she started to babble again with a smile.

“Ah Senorita Lucia I was referring to when you died,” Ernesto said.

“Oh! Silly me! Lo siento Senor De La Cruz, sometimes I just get rolling and won’t stop, I died about two weeks ago. Some infection I got, working in the city can be dangerous you see and I never listened to my Mama when she told me to wash my hands after-,” she explained.

“I’m sorry to hear that Senorita. Ay dios mio, it’s so sad to find out about that Rivera boy... you know I feel terrible for what I did, his great-great-grandfather was my best amigo. I live with such guilt after hurting them and now I can never apologize,” Ernesto sighed.

This was something Ernesto had always been good at. Acting. He could easily weasel his way in and out of any situation and besides, some 100 years of practicing never hurt. He sighed and slumped his shoulders for more effect, looking away with a hurt puppy face.

“Oh Senor-,” she began.

“Please Senorita, call me Ernesto. It’s been so long since I’ve heard anyone call me by my name,” he said pretending to give her a forced smile.

She looked flattered and if she were alive he could see the blush forming rapidly. She laid a comforting hand on his arm and smiled gently.

“We all make mistakes Ernesto... if you need help with anything I’d be willing to help you,” she said.

Inside the buzzers went off. He had scored lucky with her. She had said something about the city? If that was the case the news of his murderer status apparently hadn’t spread that far yet too quickly and besides he still had been an adored idol for years. Just like a grudge couldn’t be forgotten so easily, neither could be an icon. 

“I just wish I knew how the boy died, you know? It’s so tragic being that young, I can imagine everyone is devastated,” Ernesto sighed.

Lucia looked nervously from side to side and then gripped his arm and stopped him. She motioned a finger for him to lean down and he faked surprise as he listened. 

“There was a man earlier here, his name is Lorenzo Estevez. He just died tonite and appeared around the same time as the Rivera boy, both from Santa Cecelia. Apparently it was a car accident and there - there were children involved. He told the Capitán he didn’t know what happened to them but he suspects that he might’ve hit the Rivera boy before getting himself killed. He was really angry about it apparently, he didn’t seem to care about the boy at all, isn’t that terrible? It’s just a theory now so don’t spread it around just in case,” she said.

Bingo.

“Gracias Lucia! It was wonderful to meet you,” Ernesto said grinning wide and dashingly.

“M-my pleasure Ernesto,” she smiled looking away shyly.

“I hope to see you again soon, stop by anytime you’d like an autograph,” he grinned and waved over his shoulder.

“A-ah! Si Senor! Muchas gracias!” She called out waving after him.

He ignored the scowls and disturbed looks from the security guards. It didn’t matter to him. His grin seemed to widen and with a skip in his step he burst through the doors of the Department and took a long refreshing inhale of the air around him. His arms spread wide and his chest puffed out, he felt better than he had in two years. People looked at him and stared at him with suspicion but he simply walked straight into the crowd weaving around many with a light step. He felt like he was dancing on stage again and he held back a loud grito as he walked faster and faster. When he got back to his shack he’d have to start planning. First, would be dealing with that damn alebrije that stuck to Imelda like glue, and most likely would be following around the newly deceased like a shadow. Getting close would be the hardest part, he could figure out whatev- wait a minute, was that...?

Ernesto quickly ducked around into an alley. Peering around the corner he watched the man, who had caught his attention earlier, speaking roughly with a vendor across the street. He had a fist clenched at his side and was shaking his hand about at the older man behind the stand. The older man was shaking his head and finally the skeleton gave up throwing his arms in the air and looked about. Ernesto ducked further behind the alley and watched the fellow look towards his direction. Fearing he had gotten caught he got ready to slip away before the man stopped with his eyes on the bar down the stairs in the side walk. Ernesto himself had frequented the place since it was close to Shantytown and served whoever without question as it needed the business. Many forgotten skeletons went there since they weren’t looked at with pity and shameful expressions. The skeleton pushed open the bell rigged door and entered without a look back. Ernesto considered his options... the female officer, he couldn’t remember the name of, had said the man who was suspected of killing the Rivera boy had been angry when he left, and the man pushing through the crowd was very angry. His name what was- Lorenzo, Lorenzo Estevez. If this was the same man... Ernesto clapped excitedly in place. People passing by gave him concerned expressions and walked quickly away. The worst that could happen was that he wasn’t the man and he’d figure out another way to the Rivera family. He smoothed back his hair and squared his shoulders, with a cold smirk and determined look in his eyes, he set down the stairs and opened the door to the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments! Gracias! 
> 
> Translations:
> 
> ‘Deja de mirarme’- stop staring


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After big bad Ernesto let’s have some more Miguel, Hector and Victoria fluff!

As the rays of sunlight broke through to his eyelids, Hector groaned at the disturbing invasion. He wasn’t ready to wake up and start the day so early. He wanted to curl up back in bed and wrap his arms around his wife dozing through the last few moments of early morning. She always complained about his inability to wake up with the sun when they were alive. He knew she was used to it, she woke up before the sun on most days, even if she stayed up into the late hours. Nonetheless, his late nights as a mariachi while alive caused his circadian rhythm to be knocked into complete senselessness, and this had transcended even death. He would sleep when the sun rose and get up when it set, much to Imelda’s displeasure. Even if she did protest though she was content to allow him a few stray minutes to cuddle. However, as he tried to twist onto his side, in response to his stiff spine, he found he was trapped. He lifted his arm to press the heel of his hand into one of his eyes as he yawned and blinked. He winced at the harshness of the bright room but then furrowed his brow. It wasn’t the bedroom he shared with Imelda and if that was the case... 

Oh.

Looking down at his chest which steadily rose and fell, despite his inability or need to breathe, he gazed sadly down at the small head of hair resting there. Miguel used his chest as pillow as he continued to sleep. Almost immediately, Hector brought his arms up and around the little boy’s skeleton and felt the lump in his non-existent throat form again. He had almost forgotten what had happened, he had almost forgotten that Miguel was here with them now for good and it hurt. Ay dios mio, did it hurt. He remembered the last time he had embraced Miguel, before they even knew they were family. He had been so afraid of never seeing his living family again and that they would choose to forget him. Hector knew the fear all too well, he felt it in his bones, literally. Even though Miguel didn’t have to worry about being forgotten now and neither did he, it still didn’t comfort the fact that now Miguel could not return to the living.

Miguel shifted on top of him and moaned slightly in discontent. Hector raised a hand to his head and stroked his hair gently. He was several decades out of practice but parenting seemed to be another natural gift to him. Even though Coco was much older now, he still saw her as that two year old girl he had mistakenly left behind, and he treated her as such. No one questioned it or pointed it out, and Coco seemed content with relishing in the fact that her Pápa still liked to see her as his little niña. 

Now this time, he was dealing with an actual child. Miguel by standards was a pre-teen and really didn’t need to be babied as a child should be. Two years to Hector meant nothing though, and to be dead at 14 meant to Hector and most everyone else that Miguel was an infant. He was surprised and not surprised by Miguel when he came home last night. Surprised the boy, despite his emotional breakdown, seemed to take his time in big easy strides when he should’ve been falling apart, but this didn’t surprise him either. Miguel knew what happened after death and Hector liked to think this eased the pain of dying for him, along with accepting and letting it go. Yet, part of Hector felt sick that his little chamaco had accepted his own death so easily when he should be hysterical. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or horrified that he wasn’t. Hector sighed, Miguel dropping slightly with this movement. 

He tried to stop thinking about the bad things and focus on this moment. He could be strong, he would be strong for Miguel. He’d look out for him like a second father and the best friend he needed, he owed that to him and to his family. He thought of Enrique and sympathized on the reality of losing a child. He wished he could reassure him that Miguel was loved and would be well taken care of, like he wished someone would have reassured him about Coco. All he could do though was hope that Enrique trusted in his family like Hector had trusted in Imelda and her brothers. He had trusted Ernesto too, as Coco’s godfather, and the idea left him agitated and disgusted. His arms tightened around Miguel as thoughts and images of Ernesto anywhere near the boy entered his mind. Ernesto wasn’t allowed anywhere near the Riveras, living or dead, he shouldn’t worry about things like that but it still didn’t stop the worry. He scowled at the ceiling at his failing attempt to focus on happy things when Miguel began to stir. 

Hector looked down at him brushing back his hair to look at his face a bit better. He noticed then that Miguel wasn’t waking up, he was still asleep but his face looked tense and his body began to tremor.

“N-no Coc-o,” he mumbled shaking his head.

Hector knew instantly that he wasn’t speaking about his great-grandmother but rather his little sister named after her. What was he dreaming about that had him so distressed, and involved his sister? 

“Stay C-o... Coco!” Miguel began to grow louder and more panicked his body shaking now and hands curled a bit uncomfortably around one of Hector’s ribs.

“Hey! Chamaco! Wake up mijo! Wake up!” Hector jostled him now.

Miguel’s head shot up in surprising speed, Hector narrowly missing a collision by an inch. He looked around breathing heavy before realizing where he was. He turned his head slowly and locked eyes with Hector who smiled gently at him.

“Buenos Dias Mijo, bad dream?” Hector asked.

He simply nodded and gently laid back down, his grip slackened and he took a deep breath. Hector rubbed his back and they sat awake in silence for a moment before Hector spoke again.

“Want to talk about it?” He asked.

“I- no, not now,” Miguel barely whispered.

“That’s okay, I’m here though if you want to,” Hector mumbled understanding.

“Gracias Pápa,” Miguel mumbled hugging him gently.

Hector waited a few more minutes, rubbing his back before patting the spot between his shoulder blades and smiled.

“So what do you want to do today? Anything you’d like chamaco,” Hector said.

“Food,” Miguel groaned.

Hector chuckled and Miguel lifted himself off to allow his grandfather to sit up and stretch. His spine cracked in several locations and he felt more awake now. Miguel looked at him curiously before copying his side to side motion and few pops came from his own spine. He laughed at the sensation and settled back on his heels rubbing his tired eyes.

“Sorry for falling asleep on you Pápa Hector, I don’t even remember doing so,” Miguel mumbled sheepishly rubbing the back of his skull.

“What are you apologizing for? I remember when Coco used to do the same thing when she was young, besides I should probably apologize for snoring,” Hector laughed with a thoughtful smile.

Miguel grinned and placed his hands on his knees.

“Máma says i snore too and that I get from my Pápa!” Miguel chuckled.

“You both snore,” a voice said.

Both of them jumped with a slight scream of surprise and hugged each other. Their heads turning towards the kitchen as Imelda stood their her arms crossed and a raised brow bone at them.

“Máma Imelda, buenos dias,” Miguel said slowly in wake of his shock.

“You scared us mi amor! When did you even get over there?,” Hector asked blinking at his wife.

“I’ve been up for a while now, and I can assure you two are related just by the way you sleep! I can’t understand how tangled limbs can be comfortable and how you don’t wake another up with how loud you are,” Imelda ranted exasperatedly.

Hector and Miguel grinned at each other before turning back to Imelda’s who disbelieving expression softened to an amused smirk. She turned to the side then and offered a hand to the kitchen.

“Breakfast is ready. Hurry and eat before the others wake up, you have a busy day and can’t afford to leave starved,” Imelda said.

At the mention of breakfast Hector smelled the eggs and bacon that wafted into the room. If he still had saliva his mouth would be watering right now. If he remembered correctly Rosita was already in the workshop meaning Imelda had been left to cook. It was touching to- 

“Me first!” Miguel shrieked happily jumping off the couch.

“Hey! Get back here! Tramposo!” Hector yelled and bolted after his grandson.

Imelda rolled her eyes at the two of them but smiled at the scene before her. Miguel piled pieces of bacon on to his plate as he stuck a few in his mouth, Hector yelling at him and yanking the pan away to salvage what was left. He swatted at Miguel’s hand reaching for the other pan filled eggs and his grandson scowled at him, his mouth still full of bacon looking like quite the comedic skit. 

“Alright you two niños, share with each other,” Imelda clapped her hands.

“He ate all the bacon!” Hector argued.

“He’s holding the eggs hostage!” Miguel demanded.

“Me?! What about those pieces of bacon hanging from your mouth there chamaco? If anything is being held hostage it’s them!” Hector retorted.

Miguel swallowed and held back his plate full of bacon away from Hector and Hector in turn held the pans of the rest of the food far above his head. Each with a challenging glare at each other before Miguel’s face broke into a beaming smile and Hector grinned back, they both started to laugh hysterically. They relaxed their defensive stances and Miguel held up his plate.

“I guess sharing is caring si?” Miguel said.

“They’re yours mijo,” Hector smiled taking the spatula and putting two eggs on Miguel’s plate.

“Gracias Pápa Hector! Gracias Máma Imelda!” Miguel said happily and sat at the table with his plate.

Imelda watched Hector amusingly shake his head at their nieto before making his own plate. As he approached the table he stopped and kissed her cheek.

“Gracias mi queirda,” he said.

“De nada,” she mumbled and he joined Miguel at the table.

He sat at the end, Miguel to his right. He flicked Miguel’s forehead softly, scolding the boy for eating too quickly reminding him he could still get sick if he ate too fast. Miguel questioned how that could be possible with the absence of a stomach and Hector seemed at a loss for words before shrugging with a guilty chuckle. Miguel ate slower though and Hector started on his own plate. 

Imelda sighed in content. Seeing her husband interact with Miguel like this warmed her spirit. She was reminded of Hector’s excitement on becoming a father and now she’d get a glimpse of seeing how he’d act with a child Miguel’s age, as he never got to with Coco. She glanced to the side then and noticed the relation certificate on the counter.

“Oh!” She gave a small gasp and went over to it.

“Imelda?” Hector asked.

“Here! While you two are out and about drop this off. It should take less then a few minutes! I’d drop it off myself but we’re stacked with orders today and you will already be in town,” Imelda said handing her husband the certificate.

“Bueno mi amor, we’ll handle this first then,” Hector said.

“Oh are we going back to the Department?” Miguel gasped in excitement.

“Si? Why the excitement mijo?” Hector asked.

“Well...” Miguel began with a devious grin and explained his run in with the officer.

“Hahahaha! This will be great! His expression will be priceless!” Hector belted out a hearty laugh.

“You’re terrible,” Imelda sighed but hid a threatening smile behind her hand turning away slightly.

“Ah your Máma Imelda thinks it’s funny too!” Hector said wiggling his brow bones at his wife and Miguel mimicked him.

“I do not!” She demanded but her smile didn’t falter despite her best attempts to appear annoyed.

“Ah yes you do! See that, that was a lie! You find it hilarious mi amor! Which means the troublemaking doesn’t just come from me!” Hector grinned jumping out of his seat and hugging Imelda tightly.

Miguel chuckled as he watched his great-great-grandmother struggle against his great-great-grandfather with her arms pinned to her side. She yelled at Hector who only seemed to squeeze her harder with each demand to be freed. Hector knew when he let go he’d face the shoe, so for now he’d enjoy amusing his grandson with the spectacle he had created. 

“Ahem,” someone coughed from the doorway and all three heads turned to Victoria.

She was looking at them with a raised brow-bone and arms crossed. Clearly identical to how Imelda stood earlier and Hector laughed with delight, finally releasing his wife with hands outstretched to their granddaughter.

“Mira! Just like you ‘Melda,” he pointed out.

He let out a heavy grunt as she shoved him back into his seat and stalked out of the kitchen past Victoria.

“Ay it was obviously too early to rile her up,” Hector chuckled.

Miguel and Victoria rolled their eyes. She entered into the room and leaned down to Miguel kissing his head.

“Buenos Dias Miguelito, how did you sleep?” She asked.

“Well, Tia Victoria, how about you?” Miguel asked looking up at his great aunt with a warm expression.

She started a plate for herself with a mango from the fruit basket, bread and one egg adding salt and seasoning to the top of it before sitting across from Miguel at the table.

“I slept well muchacho, I’ve decided that after what you said last night that I’m going to keep a diary for you abuelita. I hope you’ll help me too, maybe write a few entries yourself? We can give it to her when she comes here, do you think she’d like that?” Victoria asked.

“Si! I’d love to help! Maybe we can throw together an album too? Abuelita loves taking pictures and I know Máma Coco used to take them too! Maybe she can help us with it?” Miguel grinned.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Victoria said.

“Do you think we could buy a camera while we’re out today Pápa Hector?” Miguel asked.

“Of course chamaco! Anything you want to do, the day is yours,” Hector said.

Victoria also wrote a small list of things to get like extra pages for the diary and an album for the pictures. Miguel looked forward to the project and Hector felt happy that his chamaco had something to look forward too. They all finished their breakfast and Victoria headed for the workshop then as Hector grabbed his favorite hat and righted it on his head.

“Ready to head out chamaco?” He asked.

“Si Pápa Hector!” Miguel said grabbing his white skull guitar and looking to his grandfather with a determined look.

“We can get a new strap for that today too, going to need your hands to carry everything,” Hector said.

“Si. I’m sorry again that it broke Pápa,” Miguel mumbled caressing the body of it gently.

“Stop apologizing for things you couldn’t control mijo, I’m serious I don’t want to hear more of them,” Hector scolded gently, wagging his finger at Miguel as they walked out to the courtyard.

“But-,” Miguel began.

“Shh!” Hector shushed.

“I was-,” Miguel started again.

“No! Nope! No!” Hector interrupted.

“Pápa H-,” Miguel mumbled defeatedly.

“Hush! Zip it!” Hector hissed and placed a finger to Miguel’s mouth.

The boy’s eyes widen and glanced down at Hector’s finger before back up to his grandfather’s eyes. He was suddenly catapulted to a familiar situation a few years ago. This had happened with his abuelita when he tried to discuss the very man standing in front of him. Looking at him now, Miguel realized that his abuelita had the same eyes. Despite her acting very much like and reminding him of Máma Imelda, she was certainly Hector’s granddaughter too. 

“Enough of that, let’s get going Miguel, not a moment to waste,” Hector said now enthusiastically.

“Um, Pápa Hector we have ALL the time to waste,” Miguel pointed out as Hector walked up to Pepita.

Hector flinched and chuckled nervously shrugging.

“Eh, you get my point,” he said waving his hand about.

Miguel rolled his eyes but smirked and jogged up to Pepita who greeted him with a small face lick. Miguel laughed and swatted gently at Pepita who purred. Suddenly they heard a commotion back from the house and looked up to one of the upstairs windows which were all open. At the same exact moment, a ball of neon colors came hurtling out of Hector and Imelda’s bedroom window and Dante crashed landed in front of them with an excited bark.

“Ay dios mio I hope-,” Hector began.

A high pitched shriek caused them both to jump in the air and look at the window in alarm.

“AY DIOS MIO! QUE PASA?! WHAT IS THIS ME- EL PERRO! DONDE ESTA - YOU!” Imelda screamed leaning out of the window and pointing at the dog.

“Ah! Prisa mi chamaco! Vamanos! Rapido! Rapido!” Hector shouted hoisting Miguel up onto Pepita’s back before scrambling on himself.

“Oh no you don’t!” Imelda yelled hopping on one leg for her shoe.

Dante yelped and started flapping quickly and clumsily into the air away from the house. A shoe was thrown aimlessly after him and Pepita lifted off with the two frightened skeletons aboard.

“That was a close one,” Miguel mumbled.

“Dios mio she won’t be happy later on though,” Hector shuddered fearing the heel of Imelda’s shoe when he returned home.

“Hopefully she’ll cool off a little,” Miguel said holding tightly to the guitar in his arms.

“Not possible,” Hector said shaking his head with a grim expression.

Imelda had held onto a grudge that lasted 100 years. An incident that happened a mere ten minutes ago? He was doomed and even more so for running. Miguel seemed to forget that situation then, as he relaxed into place and turned around to Hector with a nervous expression.

“So I was thinking m-maybe after we hang out for a bit we could ya know... preformintheplazalikelasttime,” Miguel mumbled quickly and quietly at the end.

“Eh? Repeat that chamaco, what did you want to do?” Hector asked.

Miguel nibbled at his fingertips and then looked up at him, pushing his fingers together.

“I kinda wanted to preform in the plaza like we did last time ya know? Of course if you weren’t performing anymore and didn’t want-,” Miguel began.

Hector beamed and pulled Miguel against him, driving his knuckles playfully into the top of his head.

“H-hey Pápa Hector! Stop that!” Miguel laughed swatting at his hands.

“Of course we can mijo! It’ll be great! There are even bigger crowds the night before Dia De Los Muertos, but first things first you’re gonna need a charro suit,” Hector smirked squeezing his shoulder.

“Oh! I forgot about that...” Miguel said and then looked sadly down at his lap.

Hector regretted it the instant he realized it. His first and only charro suit had been a handsome velvet ruby red, with intricate gold embroidery hand-sewn by Luisa. Of course he’d miss such a special gift, maybe he could get Imelda to sew him one just like it in time to perform again.

“It’s okay mijo, I promise you we’ll perform in rags if we have too got it?” Hector said holding out his hand to shake.

Miguel chuckled at the idea and the thought of their first and only performance together. Thinking back on it Hector had been in rags and frankly Miguel had been a bit roughened up himself. 

“Deal,” Miguel said and shook his hand.

They chatted about random things, and Hector pointing out places for them to explore later on as they headed towards the plaza. Dante yipped excitedly as he flew beside them and finally they made it as the hustle and bustle of life began around town. Pepita landed and they both slid off onto the uneven cobblestone. Dante ran around through the crowds and Pepita looked after him growling softly. 

“Alright! Head on back girl, Miguel and I will get back before dinner,” Hector said patting the alebrije’s head.

She purred against his hand and turned to Miguel nuzzling him affectionately. Miguel gave her ear a small scratch, his knuckles bumping against the royal blue horns only slightly. She turned then and lifted off heading back towards home. Miguel turned back to Hector then and he gave his grandson a thumbs up.

“After this we’ll get a strap for the guitar, and then the stuff you and ‘Toria need for you project,” Hector said opening an arm up to him.

Miguel nodded and slid towards his grandfather’s open arm as he wrapped it around his shoulder. Miguel noticed his grip tighten and smiled to himself gently. He had noticed Hector’s closeness since he arrived last night, he didn’t mind though. Remembering and feeling the love of all his family members had made him feel safe and reminded him he wasn’t alone. He walked a little closer to Hector who smiled down at him and they headed up the steps to the Department. A man opened the door and they nodded to him as they entered, Miguel noticed the man from last night at the desk smile at them, his eyes brightened with recognition and he waved.

“Buenos dias Hector! Buenos dias chico! How was your first night?” He asked with a thoughtful look at Miguel.

“It’s was great! Mi Tia Rosita made tamales,” Miguel began.

“Tamales! Oh your Tia’s tamales are perfecto!” The man crowed clasping his hands and swinging about.

Hector and Miguel exchanged a look and then looked at the man who stopped, and looked at them with wide eyes and a caught expression. 

“L-lo siento I got a little carried away there,” he chuckled nervously. 

Hector grinned and placed his hands on his hips.

“I will put in a good word with my son-in-law if you tell us where the officer who helped with Miguel’s alebrije last night is,” Hector bribed leaning towards the man with a mischievous grin and Miguel smirked behind him fixing the man with the same look.

He looked between both Riveras and scrambled about with a clipboard scanning it up and down. 

“Oh! Here! Officer Posada is working plaza security today! He should be outside, you probably missed him on your way in!” He said.

“Gracias Fernando,” Hector said with a wink knocking happily on the desk before waving a hand for Miguel to follow.

“Of course mi amigo! Marcella should be in the back, you remember, si chico?” He asked.

“Si! Gracias!” Miguel said.

Hector lead them to the doors leading to the large hall of offices and desks in the Department. The security guards greeted them warmly and some greeted Hector by name patting his shoulders or even giving him a quick hug. Miguel noticed there were more desks filled today. Four more skeletons sat at their desk besides Marcella, as normally she seemed to be engrossed in her paper work, typing away. Miguel lead Hector this time towards the woman and raised an arm to wave.

“Buenos Dias Senorita Marcella!” Miguel called.

She looked up immediately then as they grew closer and her face brightened.

“Oh! Buenos Dias Miguel!” She said with a big smile that seemed genuine and a voice that flowed naturally, instead of her forced expression last night. 

He liked Marcella. She had been very sweet and kind when he first arrived at customs. Apparently she dealt with most children that came through, in life she had been a mental health therapist but confessed to him that she had wanted to be a school teacher. Either way she had landed up helping people in both life and death so it made her happy. Aside from a few graying hairs she was fairly young. Late fifties Miguel guessed and she was wearing a similar pants suit to yesterday’s. Her markings were light blue and minimal with a single swirl and dot beneath her eyes and redone on her chin. She kept her hair up in a bun mostly and a pair of pearl earrings suspended from where her ears used to be, like his Máma Imelda.

“And you are the famous Hector I’ve heard so much about! It’s a pleasure to meet you Senor, please have a seat chicos!” She said.

“Gracias Senorita,” Hector said and sat beside Miguel in the chairs across from her.

“So did you manage to get the certificate signed?” She asked folding her hands in front of her. 

“Si! There you are,” Hector said pulling the form from his vest and handing it to her.

“Excellente, this will only take a few minutes,” she said placing it front of her computer.

She started to type in the information she needed off the paper and onto the database online. After a minute she pressed a button and a positive ring sounded off.

“Finished! This copy is yours Senor, I’m sure your wife will know what to do with it,” she said handing Hector back the copy.

“Gracias, I’ll give it to her later then,” Hector said.

“One more thing Miguel, before you and your abuelo leave,” she said.

“Si?” He asked.

“Has there been any new development in your memory loss? Anything you can remember can be helpful,” she said.

Miguel shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Hector gave him a worried glance. He seemed to be wrestling with something and Hector wondered if it had to do with his dream last night. He placed a hand on Miguel head and shook his own.

“You don’t have to talk about it now, even if you do remember chamaco. We can come back or you could tell one of us. No one is going to force it out of you until you’re ready,” Hector said gently petting the back of his head.

“Gracias Pápa Hector. I still don’t remember anything much, but I think - I think my sister was involved somehow, I had a bad dream about her last night and it felt really, real. I’m sorry that probably isn’t helpful,” Miguel sighed dropping his head into his hands.

“No Miguel, your grandfather is right. You only have to tell us or one of them when you’re ready and if you remember. And don’t be hard on yourself about it, if you’re meant to remember it will come naturally and if not, there are plenty of ways of finding out, even if we have to wait for a living family member to die. Bueno?” Marcella said comfortingly.

Miguel nodded his shoulders slumping in disappointment. Marcella wished them a good day and they stared back out to the plaza. Hector glanced down at Miguel who hugged his skull guitar close to him, his eyes cast down at his feet.

“Hey don’t be upset mijo, everything will be okay. It might be a good thing to wait you know? Or not even remember. I wish I didn’t remember sometimes,” Hector said patting his shoulder.

“You’re right, I just feel like I’m letting everyone down you know... I also don’t know if I got to say goodbye to everyone,” Miguel mumbled.

Hector felt his chest squeeze painfully as he looked down at Miguel. All his thoughts from this morning came flooding back and he paused at the bottom of the stairs before he pulled Miguel into a hug. The boy wrapped one arm around him, the other holding the guitar to the side and Hector squeezed him. He felt his boy shake a slight bit and shushed him gently trying to ward off the threatening tears. He knew underneath Miguel’s courage, the boy was hurting and upset. He missed his living family now as much as he had missed his deceased one. Hector didn’t know what to say to him as they stood there but Miguel was first to pull away and wipe his eyes on his sleeve. 

“Maybe we can find out what happened on Dia De Muertos, I’m sure someone will mention something,” Miguel whispered.

That’s right it was so close to the holiday. Hector didn’t know what it would be like for him. It was nice that he’d get to see his familia again so soon, but was it too soon? He wasn’t sure that the boy wouldn’t break from being able to see them but then have to say goodbye till next year. He didn’t think about it further and put on a brave, happy face.

“Si! Until then let’s focus on today and... guess who I see?” Hector grinned and gently took Miguel’s shoulders spinning him towards the left of the Department.

Miguel recognized the small skeleton officer from yesterday, whistling as he strolled about. Miguel looked up at Hector with anticipation in his eyes and Hector winked at him slinking back into a crowd close to the fountain. Miguel jogged over to the officer and waved.

“Hola Senor!” Miguel called out as he approached.

The officer turned and smiled offering a hand to shake. 

“Buenos Dias Niño! What brings you back here so soon?” He asked.

“I had to drop something off from yesterday,” Miguel answered.

“I see, I also see that you’re still carrying around the guitar. Is your grandmother with you? You shouldn’t being walking around alone with a such a valuable looking replica,” the officer said.

“No but I’m here with my great-great-grandpa today! Though I can’t seem to find where he went... mind helping me?” Miguel asked.

“Of course muchacho!” He said.

“Gracias!” Miguel grinned.

“You wait right here and I’ll see if he’s close by, if not we can head into the Department and ask for some help. What does he look like?” Posada asked.

“He’s tall! And he’s got a gold tooth! Not hard to miss,” Miguel said.

“Shouldn’t be. I’ll be right back, don’t move,” he said.

Miguel nodded and watched the officer walk off. Meanwhile, Hector glanced over at his grandson as Posada left his side and began scanning the crowd. As he got closer to the fountain, where Hector stood beside a chattering group of people, he seemed to recognize Hector and put up a hand.

“Hola Hector! Funny seeing you here!” Posada said.

“Buenos Dias Officer! Cómo estás mi amigo?” Hector asked throwing on a animated expression. 

“Bien! Say it’s an odd request and you don’t have to do it but there is this niño here, he sadly passed last night. But he’s got this replica of your skull guitar and I think he’s a fan. Would you maybe sign it for him? I’m trying to find his abuelo in the meantime,” Posada said.

Hector fought the urge to grin and instead threw out his arms.

“Sure thing! It’s nice of you to help out the chico like that,” Hector said.

“Gracias Hector! Over here,” Posada said and lead the way back to Miguel.

Miguel had his back turned to the two men when they approached and Posada cleared his throat.

“Hey muchacho! I have a surprise for you while you wait!” Posada said.

Miguel turned and his face brightened. Posada felt accomplished by the act, and at least the boy would be preoccupied while he looked for-.

“Hey Pápa Hector! I thought I lost you!” Miguel laughed and ran up to Hector hugging him. 

“Ay dios! I looked everywhere for you chamaco! You can’t run off on me like that!” Hector sighed hugging him back.

“Lo siento Pápa! I just saw an amigo and wanted to say hola!” Miguel said looking at Posada.

He stood there with his arm presented towards Hector as if still ready to introduce his not so surprise, surprise. He blinked and his jaw slackened looking between the two and noticing first their skull markings were the same.

“Hector Rivera es tú- que pasa?!” Posada exclaimed.

“Gracias Senor for helping me find my grandfather!” Miguel smiled at him.

Posada looked up at Hector then in disbelief and gasped as Hector grinned and he recognized the gold tooth Miguel had described. His mind scrambled to pick itself up to speed, and he looked between the two Rivera’s smiling at him triumphantly when his eyes fell to the guitar. He pointed at the shiny instrument and his eyes widened further.

“Th-that’s the REAL guitar?! Ay dios mio! I can’t believe it!” He shouted throwing his arms in the air.

Miguel and Hector both laughed, the elder Rivera going around the stunned frozen man and patting his shoulder.

“Sorry for the joke but gracias for looking out for my chamaco Posada!” Hector said.

“Your niño... es tú niño,” he mumbled still amazed.

“Come on mijo! Let’s get a move on!” Hector said.

“Si! Adios Senor Posada!” Miguel said and turned walking away with Hector.

Posada watched them walk away Hector throwing an arm around the boy and jostling him playfully and Miguel smiled up at him.

“Hey Pápa Hector still think I could get that autograph?” Miguel said teasingly.

“Ay! A nadie la gusta un sabelotodo,” Hector tutted waving his free hand’s finger and Miguel chuckled wrapping his other arm around Hector’s hips.

Posada blinked scratching the back on his head as he watched the two walk away into the crowd and out of earshot. Then his face split into a grin and he began to laugh.

“Es tú nieto, of course he is” Posada chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this moving too slow? I have so many arbitrary and fluffy scenes in my head and I feel like I might be holding the story back with them. What do you think? Did you also spot that line Hector says from the movie? :) I hope you’re still enjoying it and please, all the feedback in greatly appreciated. Comments, comments, comments! And nitpicks lol
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Tramposo- cheater
> 
> Prisa- hurry
> 
> Es tú niño/nieto- is your boy/grandson
> 
> A nadie la gusta un sabelotodo- no one likes a know-it-all
> 
> UPDATE: I’m sorry for the lateness of chapter! So much going on I haven’t had a chance to finalize it but I promise I haven’t abandoned this! And the next time I update will be with TWO chapters! Thank you for all your comments and support! I promise to try and have them both up tomorrow


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of two today! Here you are and sorry again for being so late with this one! :’(

_Uno, dos, tres....._

_“Mira, Máma Coco! Mira! I’m this tall now!” A young chubby faced boy, with a bright voice and big smile, cried._

_Coco looked over to him from her knitting as he stood in the archway of the ofrenda room. It was close to Dia De Muertos and the decorations for the ofrenda were already up. She smiled at him, as he waited eagerly for a response._

_“Si mijo I see, already a couple of inches in four months. Faster and faster each year,” she said nodding and turning back to her needle and baby blue yarn, beginning to count her stitches again as she went._

_Uno, dos, tres, uno, dos....._

_“When I turn eight in three months I’m gonna be as tall as Pápa!” Miguel laughed throwing his arms up high._

_Coco looked over to him again with another amused smile. He was grinning from ear to ear, the small depression of a dimple in his left cheek. But her eyes went above his head and to the ofrenda behind him, where at this position his finger tips seemed to reach up towards a certain picture. Her smiled turned melancholy and thoughtful as she looked down at Miguel and waved a finger towards herself. Miguel followed her silent command obediently and ran up to her wheelchair. She leaned down and tapped his chin up._

_“I think you’ll be taller than your Pápa,” she said._

_“Really? But Prima Rosa said that kids usually grow to be shorter than their Pápas and taller than their Mámas. And Prima Rosa is really smart because she’s in fourth grade and she reads todo el tiempo,” Miguel exasperates at the end in a way a child does, because they run out of words when they run out of air._

_“Ah but you know there’s a chance you’ll be taller.... like a different family member,” Coco said._

_“Quien Máma Coco?” He asks his big brown eyes widening in anticipation._

_She forgets for a moment what she’s about to say. That’s been happening more lately. But when he leans closer and she can make out all the little specks of color in his irises she’s reminded of him yet again._

_“Mi Pápa was muy alto. Taller than even your Pápa mijo,” Coco said._

_Miguel’s jaw fell open in disbelief a resounding awe fell out slowly, as his eyes glittered with interest and his little fingers curled ever slightly tighter around her wheelchair arm. She returned again to her knitting with a satisfied smile and started the next row when Miguel spoke again._

_Tres, uno, dos, tres, uno....._

_“If I could be as tall as Máma Coco’s Pápa th-then maybe I could finally stand and play a guitar at the same time! A guitar just like Ernesto De La Cruz!” Miguel gasped to himself holding his cheeks in astonishment._

_Dos — que?_

_With her mantra broken, Coco’s shaky hands froze immediately and she squeezed the knitting needles tightly. Erne- quien? Miguel had just said it but somehow like running into a brick wall she couldn’t process his sentence. Mixed emotions welled within her with no thoughts or places to categorize them. Why did she feel nervous? Mad? Hurt? Why had a name, one that sounded so familiar, brought up such feelings?_

_“Um, mijo, who did you say-?” Coco began._

_“Ernesto De La Cruz! La musicó from Santa Cecelia, the really famous one that Abuelita really doesn’t like because they got that big statue of him out in the plaza. That’s another thing Abuelita doesn’t like. Los mariachis, people Abuelita doesn’t like, play all day there and if you listen hard enough from the market you can hear them but De La Cruz is a famous mariachi and he is magnifico! Even though Abuelita doesn’t think so,” Miguel ranted and then deflated at the end holding one arm and looking away sadly._

_“You know the rules Miguelito,” Coco sighed petting his head gently._

_“I know... but what do you think Máma Coco? Do you like him?” Miguel asked._

_“Quien?” She asked._

_Miguel made a face and crossed his arms, she felt a little guilty for not following the conversation and tried to concentrate on his next words so she wouldn’t miss a thing._

_“Ernesto. De. La. Cruz. What do you think of him Máma Coco?” Miguel asked._

_A lump caught in her throat, and she furrowed her brows in confusion. Why was she upset? It was a musician she had heard of before... right? She must’ve because the name sounded familiar, and yet it seemed to be a distant idea. A name that formed something she was sure she should know, but couldn’t muster up whatever it had once been to the forefront of her mind. Ernesto De Luis? No no, it was De La Cruz. Bueno that sounded right. But she was sure Enrique wasn’t named after a musician. She grew frustrated, and with her, Miguel grew impatient not understanding her internal dilemma._

_“Máma Coco comeee on! You have to have some sort of opinion of him,” Miguel said._

_“I don’t know who-,” she started to say looking away from Miguel._

_“The famous mariachi Máma Coco! I’ve said his name like un montón de veces! La musico everyone loves —,” Miguel said._

_No. Máma has stopped loving him, Coco is sure. Her tios too._

_“Except Abuelita of course,” Miguel mumbled._

_Elena has never met him, nor has Victoria. He knows this, and so why is he bringing him up? He knows she doesn’t like to talk about him._

_“-ma Cocoooo,” Miguel stresses and pleads once more and something snaps._

_“You know I don’t like to talk about him, Julio!” She snaps in a raspy and weak voice, turning to face him now as best she can._

_But the face of her husband is gone, along with the sudden fogginess of her thoughts and she’s stuck with the reality of what has really transpired. She can’t speak very loudly, and she’s never not soft spoken. However, her lashing out, even if it barely fazed a fly, is enough to send her seven-year-old great-grandson reeling back and curling into himself. His once bubbly eyes are now full of shock and fear, like a cornered animal. Her heart sinks and the needles, she realizes she’s been squeezing so hard that the arthritis in her hands hurt, clatter to the ground. Miguel flinches and she can’t help copy it slightly as she watches him try to relax._

_“Máma Coco... why did you call me Julio?” The niño asks gently his voice shaky._

_She opens her mouth to speak but what can she say? She’s not even sure herself._

_“Lo siento, mi Miguelito,” she says soft now like she would when he was still an infant and she would soothe him back to sleep talking to him all night._

_It seems to do the trick and he relaxes almost completely now, his shoulders are still a bit tense. He walks over and reaches down to her needles carelessly strewn and tangled in yarn about the ground, picking them up and handing them too her._

_“Here Máma Coco,” he mumbles._

_“Gracias,” she says._

_There’s silence now. He’s not chatting and she’s feeling more guilty now about yelling at him for no reason. Why would she ever mistake Miguel for Julio? It was absurd! If anything Miguel takes after her in all the looks. Enrique thankfully inheriting her Pápa’s slender and tall form, instead of the short and wide build that Julio had. Besides, Julio had been gone for a while now. Ten years. She frowns as she tried to untangle the yarn. It’s hard without him, and she felt abandoned yet again when he passed. She knows he’s with Victoria though and she still has Elena here and the rest of her familia, but she wants a little more of them back as well. She shakes her head of the past thoughts and focuses on the now. She doesn’t like when Miguel is too nervous to talk. His endless chatter is a sign he is comfortable and happy. She knows he’s nervous to speak with the rest of the family, especially Elena, after all, no one would understand him. He talks endlessly with her though and they talk about what makes him happy. They talk about music, even if she knows she shouldn’t encourage it with Elena so close by. But he’s so full of joyful energy when he just talks about music. She can only imagine what else is bottled up inside there. She doesn’t want to be another person to keep him from being himself. Miguel is her special grandson, because picking ‘favoritos’ is wrong, so she can’t call him her favorite, but the word is right at the same time that it is wrong. She places her knitting on her lap and reaches out to him grabbing his hand. He shuffles closer and leans in._

_“Hum for me por favor?” She asks._

_It is Sunday, so the family is home and singing is not appropriate, even if condoned by her. Elena is like her Máma in that way, and sometimes, Coco wishes she hadn’t wanted to be so much like her sister. For that reason, Elena is just like Imelda, because Victoria was just like her too. And so, Coco listens with a practiced respect to the Rivera family’s infamous rules on music, even if enforced by her own daughter. Coco’s only exception being Miguel, and she likes steadily fueling the rebellion that he and she got from her Pápa. A gift she has never hated and was always good at keeping secret and letting it spew out at just the right times. Like when she met Julio when she wasn’t supposed to be dancing, defending said husband when her mother overheard him singing a nursery rhyme to them when Elena was born, or when she herself sung to Miguel when he was a baby. It didn’t matter whatever backslash there was, as long as she would be allowed to remember those little nostalgic burgundy - almost magenta colored flecks of brown in Miguel’s eyes, or the way his cheeks reddened when he was requested to sing for her._

_“Bueno Máma Coco,” Miguel says with a smile and starts to hum softly, secretly for the two of them._

You make me Un Poco Loco...

_The familiar tune is strung out on Miguel’s smooth humming, his young, high pitched voice not quite finding the right notes, but that’s okay. He’ll learn. She leans back, still holding his hand and closes her eyes, and he bravely raises his voice only a tad so she can hear the song she taught him not to long ago. He’s memorized it by heart now and she indulges herself with this request from time to time when she’s sad. If she closes her eyes and concentrates long enough, an act that seems to take more effort each and each day, she can imagine a twirling purple skirt, fingers dancing along silver chords and the loud, soul filled grito finishing it off at the end. He starts gently swinging their arms and twirling beneath them as he hums the chorus over and over. She smiles at her little grandson as he dances for the both of them and her heart swells. However the moment is cut short and Miguel jumps as he hears the door to the center of the hacienda open and turns around._

_“Abue-abuelita,” he stutters._

_Coco sighs as Elena crosses over to them as quickly as she can and is already trying to pull off her shoe as she walks._

_“Miguel! What do you think your doing!!? Poor Máma... haven’t you learned by now that you shouldn’t be singing? I thought your Pápa explained to you the last time, ay dios- go inside and stop bothering your Máma Coco,” Elena snapped and then breaths out hard pointing towards the open door she came from._

_“S-si Abuelita, lo siento Máma Coco,” Miguel mumbled and turned away with his eyes looking down._

_Coco frowned at him as he walked away and Elena sighed._

_“That boy... I love him but he’s got his head in the clouds about this music thing. Máma - I know you don’t mean anything by it, but Miguel and the singing... he’s not gonna learn that music is a bad thing if you keep encouraging it,” Elena said tentatively._

_Coco didn’t say anything to Elena as she picked her knitting needles back up and started again. Elena waited for a response but when her mother didn’t reply she merely let out her held breath and walked away sadly._

_Uno, dos, uno, uno, tres, uno, dos...._

-

Coco woke up with a fast paced breath and a depressing feeling in her bones. She hadn’t had a dream about her living life in a while now and this one had felt quite real. And just as sad. Now that she could recall times like that, she realized that those memories had been from when her sick mind had started to forget everything. She remember Miguel was very young when she started to develop her dementia, and it had scared her Miguelito as much as it had her. Part of her had been grateful to forget all the painful things towards the end of her life, so she could rest easier. However, the other part of her had found it ridiculously ironic that fate seemed so inclined to be that merciful when it had taken so much from her already. Such was the double-edged sword of her disease. She’d lose painful memories but be unable to make betters one to replace them. Nonetheless, all of that was in the past now, and as time went on in the Land of the Dead she found she hadn’t totally been helpless to make new memories. She thought of it as being the back seat driver when she was alive, she could see what was going on but had no control or ability to conjure any reaction or grasp on the events. It was nice now that she could easily bring up a time that she would’ve never been able to alive. That’s why she was especially grateful that Miguel had tried to fill her last years with some life, even when he had no idea whether she could appreciate it or not.

Now, her nieto who had spent much of his life easing the end of hers was here. Fate again had taken a bit of her heart away and she hated everything for it. She sat up from her place on the couch and hung her head, resting her chin on the palms of her hand. She was trying to be strong for Miguel, trying not to think about what could’ve been for him. She knew he didn’t want his familia looking at him with a sadness. Yet, her mind still chose to plague her with a past she wished she couldn’t remember now.

_I think you’ll be taller than your Pápa..._

She grimaced at the memory and shook her head trying hard to forget it. Forgetting had been easier once, why couldn’t it be now?

“Mi amor?” A gentle voice said.

She looked over from her place on the couch and saw Julio sitting in the big red armchair. The paper sat in his lap, his finger holding his spot as he looked over at her with a concerned look. She had fallen asleep on the couch after helping the other’s with Miguel’s surprise. Her mijo and Pápa should be back soon, and she was excited to see Miguel’s reaction. Now though, her happy thoughts were under laced with sadness again, a sadness she couldn’t shake.

“Estoy bien Julio,” she lied giving her husband a smile.

He scowled at that lie knowing all to well when she wasn’t being truthful, especially when it came to how she was feeling. She tried to look away but he discarded the paper and came over to her, standing in front of her and grabbing her hands. He careened his head to catch her gaze again.

“You’re not being truthful Coco, what’s wrong?” He asked softly, but sternly.

Curse him for reading her so well. In life he had always been able to easily and that stubborn side, she got from her Máma, was frustrated by it to no end. Yet part of her had been relieved on several occasions when she hadn’t needed to explain herself to him. He seemed to know what she needed, and when she needed it. She sighed heavily and squeezed his hands as he came to sit beside her on the couch.

“I’m just thinking about our mijo — memories about life,” she said.

Julio had been dead for two years when Miguel was born. He hadn’t gotten to see him in life, except for the one day a year and the time Miguel had been cursed. He had missed the relationship that Miguel had built with Coco but he still shared his wife’s pain. His youngest daughter loved Miguel dearly, and to see his wife and know his daughter were so hurt, hurt him. He held her hands in one and slid an arm around her shoulders pulling her against him.

“I know you’re sad and I also know you are trying to be strong for Miguel, but don’t hold that in. I’m afraid for the boy himself, he seems - too happy and I can see it in his eyes like I can see it in yours that the happiness isn’t all there. Feeling sad doesn’t mean you’re giving up, you need to grieve too, the both of you. As I’m sure Pápa and Máma are trying to do, si? The others have been silent, preoccupied and I can see ‘Toria throwing herself into things to keep her mind off of what’s going on. I haven’t even learned how to handle it either, but the one thing I’ve always appreciated about being part of the familia is that we’re all here for one another. No one said you and Miguel couldn’t be there for each other,” Julio soothed kissing her cheek.

Ah, there it was. Her husband was silent and very much a follower. He had easily given up music to marry her despite his own love for it. But Julio had his secret strength and was always there supporting his family and her whenever they needed it. She was thankful for him and thankful he had loved her. His only selfish act had been dying earlier and she had let him go to be with their daughter. But now that she had him back, her Pápa and Máma, she felt stronger in more than just her bones.

“Gracias mi queirdo,” she said and kissed his cheek back.

He chuckled sheepishly like they were still dating and she always thought it was adorable that he acted as such, even after 80 years of marriage.

“I’m gonna go wait for Pápa and Miguel outside, want to join me?” Coco asked.

“It’s such a nice day, why waste it indoors? Besides someone needs to stall them so Máma can finish Miguel’s gift,” Julio chuckled and offered his arm to his wife.

She took it with a smile and they walked outside, Pepita lounged on the roof of the home looking down at them. The sun was beginning to set and people walked by the compound heading home. They made their way out the front gates and sat along the little, knee-high stone wall that ran along the outside of the taller hacienda walls. In between, bushes and collections of various flora that added color to the front of the house and workshop. Her Tio Oscar waved from the front window and they gave a small wave back before he turned to the line of customers. Julio bent to the side, plucked two pink carnations from the bed closest to them and tucked them into the top of her braids. She giggled and remembered when he had done the same thing when they were alive and much younger. She could almost remember feeling the soft petals tickle her ears when she danced around with him. As a flower vendor, when he was younger, he had an assortment of all types of beautiful and exotic flowers. However, he said pink carnations always reminded him of her and always gave her a bouquet whenever he saw her. He smiled at her small laugh and turned back to watch the people go up and down the road. Some musicians passed by and waved to them, Coco didn’t know them but they all knew who the Rivera’s were and she figured it was a sign of some respect towards her Pápa. As they left down the road she followed them with her eyes and caught glimpse of a straw hat bouncing towards them and looked beside her father’s figure down to Miguel. Their arms full of bags and the skull guitar with a new strap strung over Hector’s back. They were laughing and smiling, she smiled thoughtfully hopping off the little stonewall and when they got a bit closer, she rushed towards her grandson and pulled him up into her arms.

“Wah! O-oh! Hola Máma Coco,” Miguel yelled and then mumbled into her shoulder his voice muffled in the tight hug.

She hummed in content as she swung him gently holding him close. Beside them Hector smiled warmly and then smiled at Julio who approached with a ‘welcome home’ and tipped up his hat.

“Máma Coco I can’t breathe,” Miguel choked out.

“Ah but you don’t need to breathe mijo!” Hector chuckled and Julio joined in the laughter.

Finally Coco released him a bit but still held his arms and leaned in, kissing about his tiny skull. He shouted a playful ‘hey’ but didn’t pull away from his great-grandmother and allowed her to continue with a laugh. She stopped with a satisfied sigh and gave him a sad smile.

“Lo siento mi Miguelito,” she said.

“Huh? What for Máma Coco?” Miguel asked eyes widening a little in concern.

“For calling you Julio so many times and not being able to show you how I appreciated all the last bits of memories you gave me. Especially that time I snapped at you,” she said squeezing his thin arm bones reassuringly.

He looked puzzled for a moment as he tried to recall what she was speaking of.

“Tha- you mean when I was eight Máma Coco? Haha, that was so long ago even I forgot about it. It’s alright, you don’t need to apologize for that, I know now why you did,” Miguel smiled and kissed her cheek.

She smiled and he grinned at her, then his face seemed to light up as if he remembered something and glanced at Hector who raised a brow bone at him. He looked back to Coco and leaned in, not so secretly whispering behind a hand.

“Do you still think I would’ve been?” Miguel asked.

It was her turn to be puzzled for a moment, but then Miguel motioned with his eyes towards her Pápa. She looked up at him before it dawned on her and she laughed. Hector looked confused at Julio who shrugged and Miguel laughed with Coco.

“Si mijo, si,” she said with a sad sigh.

Miguel frowned at her depressed tone and then grabbed her hands and took a deep breath, swaying their hands from side to side as his head bobbed in time. He started to hum then, the song she would ask for when she was down and swayed with him.

_You make me Un Poco Loco..._

There was no wheel chair this time for him to twirl under her arm, so instead he spun them around and she let out an excited gasp and chuckle.

“Oh dios!” She laughed as he continued to hum louder and spun again.

Hector and Julio grinned at the sight, as Miguel danced with Coco in the middle of the street, not a care in the world. Julio tapped his foot to the beat his grandson provided moving his head side to side. Hector set down the bag then and swung the guitar around to his front, picking up from the verse Miguel was humming with ease. A crowd of people formed around them now as Miguel wrapped an arm around his grandmother and they started to dance for real now, restarting the song again as he began singing.

_You say “Put them on your head!”..._

Hector and Miguel sang, Julio clapping and tapping his foot along to the beat and all Coco could do was laugh and dance with Miguel. As Hector and Miguel finished with a loud grito, the crowd which had formed to witness the small performance, broke into a loud applause and cheering. Miguel stepped away from her, out of breath and looked at his Máma Coco who was still recovering from a fit of giggles. He bowed at the waist holding his arms out to her before clapping himself. Hector and Julio joined in the clapping with them, Coco smiled sheepishly and then grabbed her grandson in for another hug.

“Te queirda Miguel,” she said.

“Te quierda Máma Coco,” he said squeezing her back hard.

“And I love you both, so much!” Hector said wrapping his arms around his daughter and grandson kissing the tops of both their heads.

Julio stood by and smiled at them, before Miguel looked up and waved an arm over to the group hug.

“Come on Pápa Julio,” he said.

“Ah that’s ok- ay!” Julio began to say before Coco grabbed him and Hector chuckled wrapping his son-in-law into the hug ending his refusal short.

They stood their in the tight hug smiling, even as the crowd disappeared before they heard a scoffing voice that made them all jump.

“What are all of you doing in the middle of the road?!” A voice shouted in disbelief.

They spun around and faced Imelda with a concerned and confused look on her face. Her arms were crossed and her foot was tapping, beside her Oscar laughed nervously wiggling his fingers in a small wave. Hector opened his mouth to speak as he straightened up, but it was Miguel with an eager smile who grinned and spoke for them.

“Máma Coco and I were dancing! I think I’ve found a new performing partner!” Miguel smiled triumphantly.

“Que?!” Hector demanded.

“You’ve got some competition Pápa Hector,” Miguel smirked at him his hands on his hips.

“Oh I see how it is mija, trying to steal mi chamaco from me with your pretty dancing, huh?” Hector playful scolded Coco, twirling his finger at her and she laughed behind her hand.

“Watch out Pápa! I didddd have him first!” Coco said.

“Ay la traición! I guess it’s just you and me Julio!” Hector said faking over-dramatics and throwing an arm around his yerno.

“Eh I’ll leave the singing and dancing to you and Máma Imelda, Pápa Hector,” he said with a grin.

“Ah you hear that mi amor? Our children find us old and too out of style to perform with!” Hector cried.

They all laughed then and Imelda shook her head smirking, Oscar trying to contain his laughter with a smile. Then two sharp claps brought them back to attention and she looked at Miguel with a serious look. He shrunk in fear behind Hector’s legs and peeked out from around them.

“Miguel -,” she started sternly.

“Y-yes Máma Imelda?” He stuttered.

Her face softened and she and Oscar turned towards the compound with their arm’s outstretched.

“Come,” she said.

“We have a surprise for you mijo,” Oscar said.

He looked up in curiosity now coming out from behind Hector’s legs and Coco patted his head.

“Come on Miguelito, I’ll grab your bags,” she said.

“I got ‘em,” Julio said picking up the shopping bags.

Hector slung the guitar over, onto his back and picked up his bags as well before nodding his head forward.

“You first chamaco,” Hector encouraged.

Miguel looked about the family members with him before leading them all forward. Oscar took some bags from Hector and they all followed Miguel inside. He looked up to Imelda now, who held down her hand to him and he took it tentatively. She pulled him towards the stairs, Coco followed behind as the men placed the bags on the floor by living room. They climbed the stairs and Miguel looked around the halls seeing them for the first time. The dark green wallpaper was covered in photos, older and newer. Before he had a chance to look at them all, she stopped at a door and Coco placed her hands on Miguel’s shoulders. He looked back at her over his shoulder and she smiled encouragingly, behind her Hector, Oscar and Julio smiled at him.

“Go ahead Miguel,” Imelda said.

He reached out, turned the doorknob slowly and opened the door. His eyes widened as he stepped in and the family outside the room gathered at the door to watch him.

“Surprise!” Rosita, Victoria and Felipe cheered as he entered.

He paused looking around and glanced back at Imelda.

“Is this- for me?” Miguel gasped.

It was a decent size room. A little bigger than his old room and had a large window that looked out into the courtyard of the compound catching the rays of setting sun. It still held the faint smell of paint, as the drying, light gold walls caught the light illuminating the room. Underneath the window, a bed with four pillows and a red knit blanket over the pristine white sheets. He walked over towards the small desk filled with pens and other materials to write with, he opened the drawers and found composition books and other notebooks to write with. He turned around and looked over to the other wall, Victoria and Felipe stepped to the side for him to have a better look. The walls was covered in framed pictures. Some he’d never seen, some he recognized and others he remembered putting on the ofrenda himself. Below the pictures a guitar stand sat ready beside a stool to sit on and a dresser with little skulls for doorknobs, more pictures resting on the top. He felt a lump form and fought not to cry as he looked at all of his family who had now gathered in the room. Imelda smiled at him and Hector wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Do you like it mijo?” She asked.

His bottom jaw trembled and he ran forward throwing his arms around her waist.

“I love it. Gracias Máma Imelda, mucho gracias. Gracias. Gracias a todos,” Miguel sniffled as he cried.

Imelda smiled down at him and hugged him back. Everyone watched with happy faces and Hector placed a hand on Miguel’s head, speaking softly.

“Welcome Home Chamaco!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of all your wonderful comments please! As soon as I finish next chapter for today I’ll take time to respond to your comments individually! But thank you all for your continuous support!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t hate me!

Coco had woke up feeling better than she had in the past two days. Outside her window alebrije birds were singing about and the sun was rising into the sky waking all manner of souls. Beside her Julio snored away but she knew he’d be up soon enough as he was never one to snooze about. She yawned arching her spine and listening to the pops of her vertebrae, the same sounds coming from her ankles as she rolled them. Yanking the baby blue blanket off the bed, she shuffled her feet into her worn but loved pink slippers she used to wear in life. With a smile on her face and her new happy outlook for the upcoming day she made her way into the hall and looked left and right. No one else seemed to be awake yet and she took the moment to walk as quietly as she could down to the new door two down from her own. However what she didn’t expect was the door slightly ajar. She was sure it had been closed last night after the whole family had tucked Miguel in. Her curiosity piqued she pushed it open with the tips of her fingers and was met with her father’s eyes looking up at her.

 

“Ah, buenos dias Mija. Did you sleep well?” Hector asked softly not to wake Miguel.

 

He sat on the wooden stool which he pulled to the end of Miguel’s bed. His feet propped up on either side of the rungs and his arms were crossed, watching her with a sleepy smile. Not that skeletons needed sleep or particularly felt the need for it, but now looking at his eyes, they seemed to sink a little in exhaustion. His shoulders, which were usually up and bouncing about with his energy, were hunched over and heavy. Instead of answering his question she gave him a sad look and walked over kissing his cheek.

 

“You look exhausted Pápa,” she said.

 

“Me? No, no. I just got up early, I couldn’t sleep. I - was thinking of Miguel and wanted to make sure he was alright,” he sighed looking over to the sleeping boy now.

 

Coco followed his gaze over to Miguel and smiled at her great-grandson who slept soundly. Behind him Dante curled behind the back of his legs, and his wings clapped gently every once in a while as he dreamed beside the boy. She sat at the foot of the bed beside her father who shared her warm expression at Miguel.

 

“He’s doing well,” Hector mumbled glancing at her briefly.

 

“You think?” She whispered hoping her father was right.

 

He was silent for a moment looking down at the ground and then ran a single hand down his face.

 

“For now. But, I think whe- if he remembers, I think it will hit him harder. It’ll be a little more real because he’ll remember not only how but that it did happen. I don’t want him to remember... frankly I don’t know how I’ll be able to handle it myself,” Hector said.

 

Coco reached out and grabbed her father’s hand in hers, he gave her a weak smile as he patted the top of her hands holding his.

 

“It’ll be okay Pápa,” she said.

 

His smile widened a bit as he gave her a proud look and then reached out running a hand down her head, down one of her silver braids. He remembered when Imelda first decided how to do her hair when it had grown long enough. His heart had nearly jumped out of his chest when he came home from busking with Ernesto one night. He had found them both twirling about in ruffle skirts and braids flying about, laughing and dancing to an old scratchy record player. Coco had caught him in the door with a big smile and she returned the look as she spun around her Máma and right into his arms, asking if he thought her braids were pretty. Of course he thought she looked beautiful and told her so, sweeping her and her mother into another dance.

 

“Miguel doesn’t just get his courage from your Máma you know?” Hector smiled tapping the top of the bridge of her nose.

 

She chuckled and squeezed his hand when they both heard the shifting of blankets and looked back up. Miguel yawned and rubbed his eyes, small fists nearly falling into eyes sockets. He hummed in a sleepy contentment before his eyes fluttered open and he looked about. Coco and Hector both smiled when he pushed himself up onto his elbows and blinked over at them.

 

“Pápa Hector? Máma Coco?” He asked.

 

“Buenos Dias, mijo,” they said simultaneously.

 

“What are you guys doing here? Is everything okay?” Miguel asked alarm creeping into his voice his eyes widening.

 

“No Miguel, nothings wrong, we were just up,” Hector said waving his hands gently.

 

Miguel exhaled in relief.

 

“That’s good I thought something had happened,” Miguel mumbled.

 

“How’d you sleep tonight chamaco? Anymore bad dreams?” Hector asked hopping off the stool and walking over to one of Miguel’s dressers.

 

“No more bad dreams, just dreams of Socorro again... she was crying and reaching out to me but I couldn’t reach her, and then I - just don’t remember,” he sighed.

 

Coco frowned and scooted closer to her grandson on the bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he swung his legs around to sit on the edge.

 

“One day at a time mijo, and you’ll get to see her on Dia De Muertos in two days, so it’s not that long of a wait till then,” she said squeezing his arm comfortingly.

 

He nodded and Hector came over with a change of clothes. A light blue collared t-shirt and a pair of fresh jeans with a leather belt, laying them beside him on bed.

 

“Here Miguel, we weren’t able to stop yesterday but Rosita picked up somethings while we were out. We can get more later before the holiday bueno?” Hector smiled patting his head.

 

“Gracias, Pápa,” Miguel mumbled picking up the collared shirt similar to the one he wore a year ago save for the color.

 

Hector and Coco stepped outside to let him change and when he emerged with Dante at his heels he held out his arms.

 

“What do you think?” He asked.

 

They fit him fine, hanging off his bones a little but all the well better than the scuffed up clothing he was wearing.

 

“Muy guapo, mijo,” Coco said grabbing his cheeks and kissing his head.

 

He smirked at his grandmother and Hector ruffled his hair before wrapping his arms around both him and Coco.

 

“So what are we up to today mi familia?” He asked.

 

“I told Tió Oscar and Tió Felipe I’d come with them to the market today,” Coco said.

 

“I was gonna ask Máma Imelda if she needed help in the shop today or if she wanted me to do anything else,” Miguel said looking at his grandparents.

 

“Guess I’m hanging around for the day with you then mijo,” Hector said.

 

They climbed downstairs to the living room and headed into the kitchen where Rosita was cooking breakfast, Oscar and Felipe sat at the table both reading pieces of the local newspaper. After a quick glance at each other they switched their pieces and continued reading. Miguel took a seat at the table, Rosita coming over to kiss his cheek and then Coco’s and Hector’s.

 

“Julio and Máma Imelda are still sleeping? They’re usually the early risers or at least the first ones up,” Rosita said.

 

“They worked hard yesterday on Miguel’s room, they’ll be up soon,” Coco said sitting beside Miguel and Felipe.

 

Hector helped his daughter-in-law set the table for breakfast, slipping Dante a single piece of bacon before he bounded off to bother Pepita. He sat at the end of the table and Rosita sat between him and Coco. Victoria entered the room then dressed for the day and wished them all good mornings, stopping to kiss Coco and Miguel’s cheeks before grabbing an apple and sitting at the table across from her Tia and Máma.

 

“Eat something more ‘Toria! You’re just bones!” Rosita demanded.

 

“Tia we’ve been through this, we are ALL bones and that’s all we will be. No amount of food-,” Victoria began.

 

“Victoria,” Coco scolded.

 

Victoria stopping looking at her mother with a grimace and then sighed taking the plate Rosita held out.

 

“Here Tia Victoria,” Miguel said spooning some chilaquiles onto her plate.

 

“Gracias Miguel,” she said.

 

“De nada,” he smiled passing the pan onto his uncle who smiled in thanks placing down the paper.

 

“Anything interesting mi hermanos?” Hector asked after chewing a tortilla chip.

 

“Not really, all stuff about what to do around here during the holiday,” Oscar said.

 

“And since we go to the Land of the Living, it doesn’t really matter to us,” Felipe said.

 

“Why don’t people go? Besides not being able to?” Miguel asked looking around the table at them all.

 

They all exchanged glances and shrugged about themselves. Hector spoke then, considering he had spent a majority of his afterlife so far being in the Land of the Dead.

 

“Some people just don’t go cause they prefer the festivities here, others are so much older than living family members they don’t visit cause they don’t really know them... I’ve heard others with family grudges refuse to go. I can’t imagine why you’d willingly choose not to want to see them but some people do,” Hector said with a shrug and twisted a cheese covered tortilla chip on his plate distractedly.

 

There was a small uncomfortable silence amongst the family at the table, as they acknowledged Hector’s pain when someone walked in yawning.

 

“Mhmm. Buenos Dias familia,” Julio said as he and Imelda entered still dressed for bed.

 

Imelda kissed Hector’s cheek and when he smiled the awkward silence left the room.

 

“Buenos Dias mi amor,” he said.

 

“Buenos Dias a todos,” she said walking over to the cabinets above the counters to grab a plate handing one to Julio first.

 

The two joined the rest of the family around the dinner table and started friendly chatter amongst themselves again. The saddening topic was dropped and they only smiled and laughed as they enjoyed breakfast.

 

“Are you still coming to the market with us Coco?” Oscar asked his niece, smiling at her.

 

“Si, I need to get some special things for the order I’m making,” Coco said.

 

“Do you want to come Miguel?” Felipe asked plucking a piece of bread from the basket in the center.

 

“No gracias! I’m gonna help Máma Imelda in the workshop today,” Miguel said excitedly looking at his great-great grandmother who nodded at him.

 

“Ah but I thought you didn’t want to be a shoemaker Miguel?” Julio said pouring coffee into his cup.

 

“Who said I can’t be both?” Miguel said with a shrug.

 

“That’s my chamaco!” Hector grinned at him and everyone laughed around the table.

 

“Alright, time to get ready now another day to finish our orders before the holiday. While the boys and Coco are in the market we have to focus on finishing the López’s order before the end of the night so they can have dress rehearsal. Rosita and Julio you’ll handle the men’s dancing shoes and Victoria you’ll help me finish the women’s and children’s stitching on their dancing shoes. Hector will clean the work benches and Miguel can you handle the window?” Imelda said.

 

“Si!” Miguel said.

 

“Bueno! And when you three are back we’ll need all the help we can get,” Imelda said helping Rosita clean up the table.

 

“Don’t worry Máma we won’t dawdle,” Coco smiled at her.

 

-

 

“Tio Oscar! Tio Felipe! Donde estas?” Coco called cupping her mouth with her hands.

 

She sighed as she looked about and wiggled her way through the crowd. They hadn’t been here for more than an hour and already both her uncles had run off. Growing up she always enjoyed spending time with them, their goofiness was a reminder of her father during his absence. Imelda had never approved though, saying them acting like children would never teach her to grow up. However she recalled her mother turning a blind eye to some things, like her seventh birthday. Her uncles had dressed up as clowns and entertained the few children who came to celebrate. Coco had loved it but her mother had rolled her eyes and bit her tongue at the immature show.

 

“Ay dios - where did they run off too?” She sighed again looking around her.

 

There were a lot of people around and she couldn’t see very well, despite the fact the average skeleton didn’t block much vision. She excused herself around a small family taking pictures and smiled to them as they waved. She adjusted the small basket of things on her arm and looked across the street trying to peek at the stall to see if her uncles were shopping on the street. They often did when they saw little baubles and trinkets, but mostly they did because growing up her Máma and Tiós sold things on the street themselves to get by. Her Máma has always said they could be supporting the next Rivera family or what not and should always look for local vendors. Not that in the Land of the Dead it was a big issue but old habits died harder then others, including the person who formed them. That was something her father had said one night and her mother had smacked his head clean off with her heel at the terrible joke.

 

“Discuple,” she mumbled passing behind a couple who were standing in the middle of the crosswalk.

 

She had been searching for half an hour now and frowned. She told her mother they wouldn’t dawdle, well there went that idea. As she thought about turning around and backtracking, she didn’t notice the group of people on a walking tour headed towards her. A man in the tour was walking his alebrije dog who had a long monkey like tail and was mostly a vibrant orange. The color caught her attention but too late as she looked up from her feet and felt the spirit guide knock into her right side.

 

“Ay-!” She gasped as she stumbled on the edge of the side walk, her basket slipping off her arm.

 

Before she could tumble onto the cobblestone road however someone grabbed her sleeves and righted her. She felt a phantom feeling of her heart racing and held a hand to her rib cage which pulsed in time. The person’s hands remained on her arms holding her in place

 

“Ay! Watch were you’re going!” The voice shouted but not at her.

 

“Lo siento Señora! Are you alright?” The other frantic voice said and a dog whimper.

 

“I- I’m alright, just a bit of fright is all,” she reassured with a small breathless laugh, her eyes still closed as she steadied herself.

 

“Oh good, I’m so sorry about that. I hope you have a nice day Señora, Señor,” the frantic voice said and footfalls carried away from them.

 

She felt the hands remove themselves and she slowly opened her eyes, as the skeleton in front of her bent down to retrieve her basket.

 

“Oh gracias Señor, I would’ve been spread out over the road if you hadn’t caught me,” she laughed.

 

“I was happy to help, Señora,” he said and stood up.

 

She felt a chill down her spine and froze in spot as he held out the basket to her. It was - it was him. The same man from when she picked up Miguel, the man who had bumped into her grandson. His dark eyes still looked sunken in but this time didn’t hold a burning hatred. His face relaxed as he gave her a small smile and his eyes flicked from her gaze to the basket.

 

“Uh - your basket Señora,” he mumbled.

 

“G-gracias,” she stuttered taking the basket.

 

Everything in her told her to run. This man seemed like trouble the moment she first saw him, even if he was being friendly now. A hand reached behind his head and scratched nervously as he looked around them. Her eyes darted around too, hoping and praying her uncles would appear and come rescue her from the uncomfortable situation. Why did they have to run off? Subconsciously she took a step back and the man’s eyes looked at her then and held up his hands.

 

“Please don’t g-go. I - I wanted to speak with you actually Señora! I actually came to the market today trying to find out if there was anyone who could help me find you. I wanted to apologize for my attitude two days ago... you see I had just d-died a-and I was really upset and angry. I wanted to also apologize to your niño if - if he was with you,” he said playing nervously with the ends of his shirt.

 

Her tension relaxed a little and she stepped back to her place in front of him. It made sense, even if he was quite scary. There were many who died young and held onto a bitterness for a while over the fact. She was touched that he had wanted to apologize and ignored the nagging feeling in the back of her skull. She smiled up at him and he tried to smile back but still seemed uncomfortable.

 

“I understand Señor. Gracias for going to that effort, your apology is accepted,” she said extending a hand to him.

 

“A- mucho gracias, I’m Lorenzo but you can call me Enzo,” he said shaking her hand.

 

“It’s nice to meet you Enzo. I’m Socorro but like you, you can call me Coco or Señora if you’d prefer,” she said dropping her hand.

 

“Si, are you here alone?” He asked.

 

“Ah no, my Tiós are - somewhere around here and as for my great-grandson he’s home with the rest of the famalia,” she said.

 

“Oh I see,” he mumbled looking down and away.

 

She frowned at him and looked around again as silence ensued, before he cleared his voice and stood straight again.

 

“If you’d like I could help you find your Tiós? If you’re desperate to find them, I’m a little taller and the crowd is so thick,” he offered.

 

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, I was just about to turn around before I ran into you,” she laughed.

 

He smirked placing his hands on his hips.

 

“It was me who ran into you Señora Coco, both times,” he said his voice a little tight at the end.

 

She looked at him for a moment but then smiled and nodded and they headed back into the crowd where she came from. He stayed at her side as they walked, the extra body clearing a little more space for the both of them as they did. She continued to look around and noticed he was the same before he mumbled in a shaky voice.

 

“Maybe it would be more helpful if I knew what they looked like?” He said.

 

“Oh! They’re both twins and about as tall as you, they’re wearing glasses, hats and leather aprons. They’ll be together so they won’t be hard to miss,” Coco said.

 

He nodded and held a flat hand above his eyes as he scanned the crowd. Trying to be friendly she started a small bit of conversation.

 

“So, Señor Enzo-,” she started.

 

“Enzo is fine, Señora Coco,” he said.

 

“Bueno, Enzo. I’m not keeping you from your familia am I? I’m sure since you’ve just arrived they’ll want to spend as much time with you as they can,” she said.

 

She watched then as his jaw seemed to tighten and she felt nervous pulling her shawl around her a bit more, her fingers curling into the fabric. But he turned to her with a forced smile and shook his head.

 

“I don’t have any familia here, I never really knew my parents and but I knew they weren’t the type to keep up -tradition,” he said in a tight voice. 

 

“Oh I see,” she said sadly.

 

She had stop thinking he was going to turn and attack her. He was struggling and alone here not some evil man looking to hurt her. Her mother would tell her to stop being ridiculous and help him. So she straightened up and nodded.

 

“Well Enzo, when we find my uncles, what do you say to dinner with my familia?” She said.

 

He looked at her surprised but shook his head.

 

“I couldn’t intrude,” he said.

 

“Nonsense! Besides it’ll give you the opportunity to apologize to Miguel if that’s really what you wanted to do?” She said.

 

He looked hesitant for a moment before shrugging and nodding.

 

“Okay, dinner sounds nice and you have a point,” he said.

 

“Wonderful! Now we just- oh! There they are! This way Enzo!” She said excitedly pointing to a stall where she saw both her uncles looking around.

 

He followed behind her trailing slightly and when she came into view of Oscar she waved her arm.

 

“Tio Oscar! Tio Felipe!” She called.

 

They both turned and their eyes brightened running over to her. Oscar hugged her and Felipe kissed all over her head.

 

“We thought we lost you forever Mija!” Oscar said.

 

“We turned around and you had wandered off! Your Máma and Pápa would’ve killed us if we lost you Mija!” Felipe gasped giving her a small hug now.

 

She rolled her eyes with an unimpressed expression at the absurdity of their claim, not bothering to argue. She turned then and held out a hand to Enzo who stood there waving gently.

 

“Hola,” he mumbled.

 

“Tio Oscar, Tio Felipe, this is Enzo. He helped me earlier with a small situation and helped me look for you,” she said.

 

“Situation?” Oscar asked looking at her with crossed arms and raised brow as Felipe shook the man’s hand.

 

“It was nada. Don’t worry over it,” she said waving her hand.

 

“Well, gracias for helping her amigo,” Oscar said shaking his hand.

 

Coco looked surprised when Enzo grabbed his hand a little harder this time as he shook it. Oscar grimaced but covered it with a weak chuckle.

 

“Strong grip you have there,” he said.

 

“It was no problem on my part,” Enzo only said finally releasing Oscar’s hand.

 

“Well it was nice to meet you Enzo,” Felipe said.

 

“Ay, I’ve invited Enzo to dinner tonite. He has no family here and I think a thanks is in order,” Coco said.

 

“But Coco-,” Oscar began.

 

“It’s the holiday Tio Oscar. No one should be alone during the holiday,” she said shaking her head at him.

 

Oscar sighed and Felipe patted his shoulder. He shrugged then and smiled at Enzo who smiled back at him.

 

“What’s the harm? Our Mija is right, no one should be alone for the holiday the least we can do is dinner for finding our precious Coco,” Oscar said.

 

“Ah I think it was us-,” Enzo began.

 

“It’s no use,” Coco interrupted shaking her head with an amused expression.

 

“Let’s head home then!” Felipe said enthusiastically.

 

Enzo nodded at her and then fell back into step beside her, as they followed the two men ahead of them. They didn’t speak much as they headed back to home. Coco took the time to watch the small street parties, musicians busking and couples dancing to them. She noticed a little girl, sad thing about the age of Miguel laughing and dancing with who Coco was her father or grandfather if he had died without graying hair. She felt a sense of nostalgia watching the scene and let out a small sigh.

 

“Did you not know your father?” Enzo’s voice suddenly asked quietly.

 

She turned and looked at him and he threw up his hands.

 

“Ah I’m sorry Señora Coco, just the way you were looking- I shouldn’t have asked,” he said looking down.

 

“It’s okay Enzo.... let’s just say I’ve reconnected with him in death,” she said.

 

He looked at her up and down but then nodded and sighed.

 

“That’s nice,” he said.

 

“I’m sure your parents would’ve liked to see you Enzo,” she mumbled.

 

She watched as his hands clenched and his voice strained when he spoke next.

 

“No offense Señora but no - they wouldn’t have,” he said darkly not looking at her.

 

The nagging feeling in the back of her head right now told her something was very off but she tried to remind herself about his situation. Not pressing the matter further though she looked ahead and pointed between her uncles.

 

“Right there Enzo. That’s our family zapateria, mi Máma started it when I was little,” she said.

 

She watched him look at it as they got closer and nodded to her.

 

“It’s nice,” he said softly.

 

“Hey if you ever need new shoes Enzo stop on by!” Oscar said.

 

“Si! We have coupons too!” Felipe grinned, both twins smiling over their shoulders and holding small slips of papers.

 

They shoved both into his hands and he looked down at them. They were two 30% off coupons and if he looked closer at the finer print they couldn’t be combined.

 

“Uh...,” he mumbled.

 

“We’re home!” The twins sung then and the complaint died.

 

“I do hope Máma isn’t too mad about us being out so long,” Coco mumbled as Oscar held open the gates to the compound.

 

“Is your Máma a stern woman?” Enzo asked.

 

Coco chuckled gently with a sheepish look and rolled her eyes towards the fountain in the courtyard.

 

“Stern is a kind way of saying it,” she said.

 

Enzo went to ask what she meant when the door to the main house swung open and the woman dressed in purple emerged with her boot high above her head.

 

“You’re late!” She shouted.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! All feedback appreciated!


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